


Overdue Fees

by yourresidentialrobot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Angst, Garrison trio, Gay Keith (Voltron), Humor, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Library AU, M/M, Warning: depression and anxiety, shiro and keith are friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourresidentialrobot/pseuds/yourresidentialrobot
Summary: Keith is a 17 year old worker at the local library. He loves his job- especially the quiet.  When Lance, Hunk, and Pidge barrel into his library, bringing a host of noise, emotion, and problems with them, his peace is disturbed. Maybe, just maybe, that’s a good thing.





	1. Go Outside

8/15  
I don’t want to go home. Well, home isn’t quite accurate. House? Place of residence? Whatever.  
the only thing resembling a home I’ve got is a fucking library. 

At least the pay is decent.  
-Keith.

Keith put his head on his hands and looked out the window. Heat waves sizzled off the pavement outside. Children laughed and called to each other, leaving trails of melted ice cream in their wake. Keith watched them intersecting the hopscotch line, weaving in and out, just like when he watched them play when he was a kid, sitting on the outside of it all. Remembering made Keith tired. His cheek met the cool surface of the counter. The light from outside refracted off the shiny, modern walls of the library, straight into his eyes, and he winced. If only he had sunglasses.

An entire summer spent at this library, and all he had to show for it was a journal filled with the same entries day after day. And a full bank account.

Allura and Shiro, his superiors, spent every waking moment trying to get Keith “go outside.” Ironically, the harder they pushed, the less Keith wanted to. He was stubborn. Allura was stubborn. They’d been at a standoff regarding Keith’s social life for awhile. She had a suffocating motherly concern for him. It made Keith uncomfortable.

The point is, Keith didn’t talk to people much. But he liked it that way.

“Whatcha up to, pal?” Shiro said, appearing behind Keith. 

“Same thing as always.”

“So, nothing.”

“Yep.”

Shiro sighed. “There’s no one you can go and hang out with? I love seeing you here, don’t get me wrong, but every day?”

“I don’t like hanging out with people.”

Shiro looked like he was going to argue back, then stopped himself. Likely to spare himself the fight. “Classic Keith!” He mussed Keith’s hair. “Don’t darken up the place too much when I’m gone.”

Keith frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Home. My shift’s over.”

Keith looked outside. The light had begun to dim, ever so slightly. The children were gone.

“Say hey to Allura for me,” Shiro said. He walked out. Leaving Keith alone with Allura.

Fortunately for Keith, they didn’t have much time to themselves.

Shrieks erupted from the corridor. Keith snapped up, tense. A boy bounded in, followed by another boy and a girl, walking at a regular pace. The boy in front said, as loudly as possible, “Hey, how much you wanna bet I can ask Allura out?”  
Keith shot him a glare. He shrank back. A tall, skinny boy with sun kissed caramel skin, he quickly slowed his bound and whispered, “Guys, quiet! We’re in a library!” He was obnoxious, clumsy, lanky. It was apparent he was one of those guys who was always ON, heart beating, alive. Like the sun. There was black oil smudged across the bridge of his nose. His blue eyes shone like fish scales.

The one behind him, a soft, heavier set boy with a kind face, and similar smears of grease, nodded. He was warm, too. Keith could tell.

In comparison, the girl behind them was neat, although with messy hair, carrying a pristine laptop adorned with robot decals. The only thing that betrayed her association with them was the smudges of black grease on her small hands. “Lance, you’re the loudest one here. Don’t make me send you to the children’s section.” She said coolly.

“But Pidge!” He complained. 

“Guys, let’s just get this done, please.” The other boy sighed.

“Lance can’t distract me while I’m doing calculations!”

“Hey!” Lance objected. The other (few) patrons there were in the library were beginning to take notice.

“Keith.” Keith jumped. He turned away from the commotion. Allura looked back at him, silver hair tossed over her shoulder, her arms firmly crossed.

“What?” He said.

“You’re just sitting here while they act like that! Come on, do your job. I know it’s HOT, but that’s no excuse.” She grinned and nudged Keith, eyeing him and Lance, looking especially pleased with herself. “Get it?”

“Get… what? Why can’t you do it?” He muttered, and rubbed his eyes. Allura was always well meaning but obvious in her attempts to force social interaction. And what exactly was “hot” referring to?

“I’m your superior. Plus I’m on break, starting now. I win.” She smiled. Keith slid down in his chair.

“Go deal with it, please.” Allura said softly, eyeing him. There was steel in her gaze.

Keith was too tired to act like an emo shit today. “Okay, okay, I will.”

Keith reluctantly peeled himself out of his spot and walked up to the kids. Their disagreement had escalated. The other boy was holding Pidge back as Lance danced around them in defiance. “Hunk, let me go!” She howled in frustration.

“You guys do know this is a library, right?” Keith said. 

Lance stopped dancing and turned around. He stared at Keith in a daze. His eyes were so bright when they fixed on Keith- their directness made him feel like he’d been shot. Lance’s mouth was wide open. He looked like a fish. “I’m sorry!” Lance gasped. 

That was good enough for Keith. As long as he could leave. “Alright.” Keith said. He walked back to his safe haven behind the desk and sat down. He’d never let on, but his heart was pounding. He didn’t know whether it was because of the boy’s stare, or the fact that it was one of the few interactions he’d had all day, hell, all summer, but it was too much to handle. Lance was still looking at him. Sweat beaded on Keith’s forehead. Why won’t he stop looking at me?

“Allura, I’m going to take my break now too,” Keith gasped out, and walked into the stacks, relying on the soothing presence of books to keep him sane. Once he was alone, he slumped against the shelves, focusing his eyes on the familiar, dusty titles. He didn’t dare look back, for fear that Lance’s eyes were still following him. 

“Lance, huh?” He whispered to himself. Annoying.

——

Lance’s stare followed Keith until he was out of sight. He turned to Pidge and Hunk. “Who’s that?”

Hunk stared at him in surprise. “Keith,” he said.

“Who?” Lance said, bewildered.

Pidge snorted. “You’re telling me you don’t know who Keith Kogane is? The precious honors student you’ve been ranting about for half a year?”

“THAT’S Keith?” Him? The boy with the raven hair, and the dark eyes, and the violet stare that made Lance feel he was evaporating where he stood? He was the same boy Lance heard about, day in and day out. “When Keith was here…” “Keith always did it like THIS…” “Keith had no trouble doing this, why can’t you?” Their voices rang in Lance’s head like the tolling of a bell. Well, now Lance understood what all their worship was about. Didn’t make him resent Keith any less.

“Yes, THAT Keith, you dolt. Now let’s get the paperwork done or we’re gonna be in some serious sauce.” 

“Keith, huh?” Lance repeated.

“Lance, are you listening to me?” 

“Yeah.” He mumbled under his breath and set to work, still thinking on the moments before. “Keith.” Lance shook his head.

——

8/17  
That guy Lance is staring at me- again- and it’s getting kinda weird. I wonder if he wants to steal the restricted books from behind the counter when I’m not looking. I hope he realizes they aren’t porn.  
-Keith.

Keith sat behind the desk, nodding off in boredom. He saw a flurry of movement from the corner of his eye. A pair of blue eyes caught his own and held firm. Lance McClain stood there, holding a book. Staring at him. This pattern had been repeating for the past couple of days. The staring. He didn’t think Keith noticed, but how could he not? Lance wasn’t good at being subtle.

“Yes?” Keith said.

Lance parted his lips, looking like he was about to answer, but stayed just as frozen as before. Was he confused? Keith clarified, “Is there something you want from me?” Lance stiffened even further, if that was possible, gripping the book tightly with his slender fingers. He turned and fled from the library. In his hurry, he’d knocked down the summer book display. Now Keith had to clean that mess up, too.

Pidge and Hunk, sitting at their usual table, snickered to each other. If this was some sort of joke, Keith was missing the punchline. 

——

8/18  
So, I looked Lance up in the library database. It was, technically, against the rules to be searching in the database, but who’s counting? This is what happens when you’re two months into summer vacation.

So, he’s got a book overdue. The Art of Persuasion. Sounds pretty pickup artist to me. If I had to bet anything, he’d be trying to use it on Allura. He was gonna hit on her one time. I bet that’s the book he was holding yesterday. He was probably upset Allura wasn’t there.

Whatever. Why should I care? All I got out of this is that Lance McClain is probably a pervert. I didn’t need much convincing in that area.  
-Keith.

Keith finished writing with an angry flourish, a scowl on his face. A scowl deepened by the familiar noises he heard coming up the hallway. Lance leaped into the library, a bright smile on his face. Hunk and Pidge followed close behind. 

What followed in the next hour was irritating, to say the least. Lance was, repeatedly, far too loud. Pidge borrowed countless library cords to create some sort of… master computer? Keith didn’t understand it. According to Allura. It was somehow permitted by the library rules. Hunk was fine. He minded his business. Keith liked Hunk.

By noon, Lance was standing in the middle of the library, flexing his thin arms and naming himself “the hottest bod in town.”

Keith couldn’t help himself. “Congrats, Miss America.” It was sort of a compliment. Lance WAS pretty. Keith would never tell him that. 

Lance was stunned that Keith was talking to him. He took an effort to shake himself out of it and bristled. “E-Excuse me!? I have WAY more muscle than you, Kogane.”

Keith laughed. “You really wanna try me on that?”

“Bring it on!” Lance blustered.

Keith, who was in disbelief that he was actually doing something this stupid, walked over, pushed up the arm of his t-shirt, and flexed. Keith worked out every day. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Whoa,” Lance said, his eyes widening.  
Keith raised his eyebrows at Lance.

“I mean- whatever, it’s not that big.”

Keith continued raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well I’m taller!” 

“Keith!” Shiro emerged from the back. “Come over here for a minute. We need to talk.”

“Ooooooh! You’re in trouble!” Lance teased.

“Whatever,” Keith said. He lightly shoved Lance as he passed by. 

The boy stumbled in shock. He was soon beset by Pidge and Hunk, who elbowed him with knowing grins. “Wow, he is strong.” He whispered. Not that he’d ever tell Keith that.

Keith’s arm burned where he had touched Lance. “Hope I didn’t get some disease, ” He thought to himself, and brushed it off as he walked over to Shiro.

Shiro had been putting up with Keith’s stubborn attitude for the past few years. Honestly, he was one of the few people Keith could tolerate, even if he did bug Keith about his “well-being” too often for comfort.

“I see you’re finally hanging out with people for once,” Shiro smiled. 

“If barely tolerating their presence means hanging out, then yes.” 

“Is that so?” Shiro said. “You seemed to be having fun.” His smile grew.

Keith frowned. “Not in the least.”

“You sure?”

Keith glanced at the clock, desperate for an excuse to leave. “My shift is over, I have to go now.”

Shiro’s smile remained. “Alright, have fun.”

Keith stalked out of the library, cringing at the heat of the sun. He preferred life this way- alone. The only person who didn’t annoy Keith was himself, and even that was a stretch sometimes. What did Shiro know? He was just desperate for Keith to be normal. Good luck with that one. 

——

8/20  
School starts in two days. I want to die.

I’m trying to figure out why Lance, Pidge and Hunk keep coming in with oil on them. What if they damage the books? I would say something to them, but Lance would probably be annoying and start another fight with me. Doesn’t he have other things to focus on? Like that weird pick-up artist book? 

I have to admit, I’m curious about it. Just a little.  
-Keith.

Lance, as noisy as ever, stood up from his table, his chair scraping back. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said. 

Pidge said, dryly, “Thanks for letting us know. You need a pass?” 

“Shut up.” Lance walked down the hall.

From across the room, Keith tensed. Now was his chance to get his hands on Lance’s dating manual. He casually slunk over and picked it up. Keith addressed Hunk and Pidge. “You guys reading this?” 

“Oh… no.” Hunk answered.

“Great, well, I’ll take care of that for you.” Keith turned away, book in hand.

“That’s more than he talks in a week,” Pidge mused to Hunk.

Keith practically sprinted back to the desk, his heart thumping in his chest. He practically ripped the book open to get a look at its contents.

The table of contents didn’t seem very romantic to him. “Opening a Business Deal, Negotiating Prices, Good Customer Service, How to Get the Best Review?” This wasn’t romantic at all. It was a sales manual.

Lance slid down the railing on the staircase and sped over to his table. In a panic, Keith grabbed the book and disappeared into the back area. Behind him, he heard, “Hey, where’s my book? I need that one!”

Keith’s face burned. What was he doing? Sneaking around, stealing books. Technically this one was overdue, so he was doing the right thing, but… he wasn’t. 

——

Keith sat in his bed at home, flicking through the book. He tried to imagine why Lance needed a sales manual. He didn’t even know the library had those!

Still, he felt bad for pinching Lance’s book. It was overdue, we’re talking half a year overdue, but Lance needed it. 

How could he make it up to Lance? He turned over, fuming at himself for getting so involved in someone else’s life, and fell asleep.

——

After school, Keith went straight to the library.  
“Shiro, how much does it cost to buy a book?”

“Depends. Which one?”

“This one.” Keith showed him the cover, furtively glancing around, in case Lance materialized out of nowhere. 

“Probably about $20, but libraries aren’t really bookstores…” Shiro hesitated.

“Please, Shiro? It’s kind of important, and it’s got an ungodly amount of overdue fees on it anyways.” Keith noticed a whiny edge creeping into his voice, and he scowled.

Shiro was shocked. Keith never said please. He never asked for anything at all. Shiro would have to be heartless to turn him down.

“Fine, just don’t tell Allura,” he found himself saying. Shaking his head at how soft he’d become, he walked into the back and paused. Wasn’t that Lance’s book?

——

When Lance walked into the library, he saw a book sitting on his usual spot. He walked over and read the sticky note on the front. “It’s yours—permanently. Sorry for taking it.”

Lance looked up and saw a thicket of raven hair disappearing into the stacks. He beamed. Keith was trying to be secretive, but to no avail. Lance recognized Keith’s scratchy handwriting from the few peeks he’d managed to get at his journal.

Lance didn’t understand why Keith was being nice to him, but he wasn’t gonna question it. He felt like bringing it up would scare Keith away, like a stray cat or something. Severing their already tenuous bond was the last thing Lance wanted, even if he resented Keith, just a little bit. 

So he’d keep things exactly like this. 

——

“I DON’T GET IT!! I HATE MATH!” Lance howled.

Lance had been sweating over a math worksheet for the past hour. And now he was cursing. Allura walked up to Keith. “Can you go help him? I don’t want to ask him to leave, but he’s being a bit of a disturbance.”

There was no one else in the library except for them. Another poorly hidden ruse by Allura to force Keith into socializing.

Keith heaved a sigh and got up to humor her.  
“Need help?” He said, crossing over to Lance. 

Lance quickly covered his homework. “What?”

“With the math,” Keith said, crossing his arms.

“What, cause you’re so smart?” 

“I never said that!”

“You implied it!”

“Lance, I didn’t imply anything. Let me look at it.”

Lance, embarrassed, eyes looking at the floor, lowered his arms.

“Oh, trig,” Keith said.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re an expert-“ 

“How would you- What’s your deal?”

Lance fumed. “Everybody always talks about how smart you are. Fancy scholarship and all. Kinda sucks to be compared to the most perfect boy in existence.”

Keith didn’t really know how to respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t perfect. And it wasn’t his fault he got the scholarship. There were issues here that Keith did not know how to deal with, or particularly want to. Math was easier to tackle than people. He looked into Lance’s blue eyes and all he said was: “Do you want help or not?”

Red bloomed in Lance’s cheeks. “Yeah.”

Despite being somewhat stubborn, Lance softened quickly. Keith leaned over him, pointing at equations here and there, explaining what he did wrong. Even while Lance bristled at perceived offenses, he noticed when Keith would brush against his shoulder. He was so close Lance could smell his cologne. Intoxicating. Suffocating. Lance couldn’t breathe anything else but him.

“See?” Keith said, laying the pencil down. 

“Huh? Yeah,” Lance said, breaking out of his trance.“Thanks.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Keith said, grabbing his jacket and walking towards the door.

Lance couldn’t move from where he sat. His legs felt like jelly. All he could do was watch Keith go.

——

This became a regular occurrence. On the days Hunk and Pidge were gone, which were becoming more and more often, Lance would fly through the rest of his homework and end up fixated on a single math worksheet.  
Although he was still defensive around Keith, Lance had become more attached, almost clingy, which confused Keith greatly.

“Keith! Keith!” Lance called. 

Keith walked over. For some reason, his eyes were drawn to Lance. He looked at him, seeing his sun kissed, clear skin, his thin, lanky form, and Keith became all too aware of how long this pause had been. Keith cleared his throat. “What did you need help with?” He said. 

Lance’s face bloomed a vivid shade of red. He gulped. “Just… just some math...” 

“Where are Pidge and Hunk? Gone again?” Keith asked.

“Um- yeah, they are.” 

“Alright,” Keith sighed.

Lance shifted over to make room for Keith beside him. Keith kneeled down beside Lance. He really didn’t mind doing math. He liked math. It made sense. He couldn’t say the same about people.  
People were loud and annoying and way, way too distracting for him to know what to say next without seeming like an awkward brick.

Keith sat there, going through the math, using the methodical series of steps to keep himself calm, breathing in the citrusy smell emanating from Lance, and wondering what the hell he was doing.

——

Keith stumbled into the library on Friday, exhausted from that day at the Academy.  
Lance, Pidge, and Hunk were sitting at their table, chattering excitedly. Pidge and Hunk hadn’t showed up at the library for a full week. It was nice to see them.

“Hey, Keith! Come over here!” Hunk said.

“There’s a party tonight, and Hunk, Pidge and I are all going,” Lance said. “You wanna come?”

Keith was bewildered. “What? Me?” Why would I go to a party?” He said.

“Hey, by the way, I’m not going,” Pidge said. “I have better things to do.”

“What!?” Hunk cried, and he and Pidge embarked on an impassioned side conversation.

“C’mon, dude. Have some fun,” Lance said. “When’s the last time you’ve been to a party?”

Keith felt somewhat ashamed of himself. “Well, never.”

“What!? All the more reason to come! I’ll show you a good time! I’ll show you a way better time than you could ever show me.” Lance looked excited. He finally had an edge over Keith.

“I don’t really know…” 

“Fine Pidge, if you’re not going then neither am I!” Hunk said, folding his arms in finality.

“You say that like its a bad thing,” Pidge smirked.  
“C’mon, we can go to the diner. I happen to think that’s way more fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunk said. “Next time we’re going.”

“Next time.” Pidge agreed.

Lance bristled. “What!? I can’t go by myself!” He turned to Keith, hope in his eyes.

“Keith please, please, please come. I can’t go by myself!”

“You could.” 

“Keith! Please? You won’t regret it.” Keith looked up into his pleading blue eyes, and before he even realized it-

“I’ll come,” he said.


	2. It’s My Party And I’ll Cry If I Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance, the charming boy that he is, has convinced Keith to leave the safety of the library and accompany him to a party. Keith is hesitant and Lance is excited. This isn’t going to turn out the way either of them expected. Ft. Milkshakes, white pants, and autumn.

9/5  
I’m going to a party today. I don’t really want to, but here I am.

At least Lance’ll owe me one, I guess.  
-Keith.

“YOU’RE going to a party?”

“Yeah.” Keith said.

Shiro stood there in shock, mouth opening and closing, before rushing forward and wrapping Keith in a hug. 

“Shiro!” Keith choked.

“I. Am. So. Proud.” Shiro cried. “Finally, you’re gonna get out of here and do something with your life!”

Keith sputtered. “I’ve done plenty with my life!”

“Like?”

“Like… Like…”

“Yeah?”

“Read.” Keith said in defeat. “And update my journal.”

“Update? With what? Your daily exploits in the library? Go!” He gave Keith a lighthearted push towards the door. 

Keith resisted his shove. “But my shift gets done at six. The party is at seven, I’ll be fine.”

“We’re fine without you for an hour. Take some extra time to pretty yourself up.” 

“Pretty!? For who?”

Shiro ignored Keith and chuckled. “Go.”

Keith walked out of the library, feeling, would he dare say it? Happy. Not that he really understood what a party was for. Or who would be there. But he had to admit, it felt good to have people care about him. 

——

His hair was not cooperating. At all. Whatsoever. Yes, maybe Keith was being a little perfectionist, but if he was gonna force himself to go to a party, he was gonna party right. That included the rebellious mop on his head, dammit.

Finally, his hair was pushed into a decent shape. Keith pulled on his jacket and went to the door.

“I’m leaving,” he called. Of course, no one else was home. Keith knew that. He closed the door behind him with a final click. 

Breathing in the crisp air, Keith shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. A party? He didn’t even know what people did at parties, besides get drunk and waste their time.

The drunk part didn’t sound so bad.

Keith didn’t get why Lance would want to do all that with HIM. From what little he knew about the guy, he was doing pretty well, friend-wise. Lance could get anyone he wanted to go with him. Or at least, anyone other than Keith.

Keith didn’t understand why he’d said yes to Lance, either, so he supposed it was partially his fault. The moment felt so magnetic, Lance looking at Keith like he wanted to draw an answer out of him, and Keith feeling like he had no choice, not wanting to let those big blue eyes down.

Golden leaves fell from the trees before him, crunching under his feet. The air hung heavy with the scent of autumn. It smelled of things growing, flourishing, dying, changing. It felt like something deep inside Keith was doing the same. Maybe, he wished, he could shed his old self right on the sidewalk where he stood, rake it into a leaf pile, put it with the rest of the garbage, watch it disappear down the street as he waved it goodbye. It was a bit much, perhaps. Walking down the street by himself like this made him nostalgic. Nostalgic for a time he never had.

Keith was getting better. He really was. His dad would be proud.

Keith walked up to the meeting spot Lance had given him. Under a street light, across from a park. 

Where was Lance? People were going to notice Keith standing here by himself. He felt awkward, out of place. 

Keith stood patiently under the street light. He tried to calm the tension growing in his stomach. Flies circled under the sickly yellow light emitted by the lamp. Keith studied their orbit, feeling just as sick and lost as they did. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. The sun was collapsing below the horizon, the sky a deep, bruised, purplish pink.

As the sun went down, all of Keith’s paranoia rose to the surface. It was all a stupid prank, wasn’t it? Keith thought. That’s why none of this made sense. That’s why Lance asked HIM to come. That’s why Lance’s actions around Keith never made any sense. He wanted to make Keith the fool. The nerdy, quiet, angry honors student who’d been stupid enough to fall for his ruse. And Lance succeeded. Keith’s eyes burned. It was probably true. Why wouldn’t it be?

Thirty minutes.

He turned away and began walking down the street. Better to head home. No one was there, and that’s why it was safe. Because Keith knew exactly what things were like. Nothing could change. Nothing depended on someone else.

Part of him wanted that to change, deep down. He wanted to depend on others. That was why he’d said yes to Lance. What a colossal mistake.

A call sounded behind him. “Keith! Keith, you’re going in the wrong direction! Stupid!” Keith turned. Lance was sprinting down the street, a smug grin on his face. 

“I was leaving,” Keith said.

Lance skidded to a halt in front of him. “What? Why?”

Keith looked at Lance in disbelief. “Because you weren’t here.”

“Oh… yeah, sorry about that, dude. My brothers were being crazy.”

Keith’s shoulders relaxed. He hadn't realized it, but he was coiled so tight that his body ached. “Oh…” he breathed.

“You alright, man?” Lance asked.

Relief washed over Keith. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

They fell in step with each other in silence. 

“I know what I’m getting you for Christmas,” Keith said.

“Christmas? Wow. You move fast.”

“A watch.” Keith said, elbowing Lance.

“Shut up! I tried to show up on time.”

“Try harder.”

“Whatever.” Lance’s face burned.

“What exactly was your brother doing that was so crazy?” Keith asked, looking over at Lance.

“Well, he got ahold of some of my paint, right? So he was running around the house with paint all over his hands, leaving tiny handprints all over the walls, and my mom and grandma were screaming for me to catch him- He was like Thing 1 and Thing 2 all by himself, you know?”

“Thing… what?”

“From Cat in the Hat?” Lance said incredulously.

“Oh.” Keith said. “I don’t watch kid’s movies.”

“What? Not even when you were a kid?”

Keith didn’t feel he was missing anything. “Just the ones they showed us at school.”

“Oh.” Lance was defeated. He tried again. “It’s a book, too. No Dr. Seuss?

“They weaned me off kid’s books pretty early, so... no.”

“Oh.” Lance didn’t know what to say. Keith was puzzled. Was it so vital he knew a Cat in the Hat reference?

“So, he has paint on his hands, and…?”

“Oh! Yeah! So I was trying to catch the kid, and he was dodging, and I kept running into the walls trying to catch the slippery little shit, but then he got tired and I caught him, and then I had to give him a shower. There’s red paint all over the walls now.”

“That explains why there’s red handprints on your ass.” Keith smirked.

“What!?” Lance gasped. “You’re kidding, right? Keith!”

“Wish I was.”

Lance twisted around and spotted the handprints sticking out, a bright crimson. “THESE. ARE. WHITE. PANTS! WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING BEFORE?”

“Didn’t see it,” Keith said, holding in a chuckle.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Keith couldn’t contain it. He cried in laughter. “We match,” he said, gesturing to his red jacket.

“Shut up, Keith! Like I’d ever wanna match you!”

Keith wiped a tear from his eye. “Do you wanna go get a change of clothes?” He struggled to hold in another burst of laughter.

“No, we’re late enough.” Lance sighed. “Guess we’ll have to match.”

Keith felt a little pleased at that.

“So, what do we do when we get there?”

“We... go inside?” Lance said.

“Smartass. I mean at the party.”

Lance had forgotten. This was Keith’s first party. “Oh! Well you basically eat and drink and talk and chill with whoever’s there. It’s all a great big group of friends. Even if you don’t know everybody.”

Keith turned an improbable shade of green. The prospects of a giant group of strangers surrounding him made him nauseous. Lance rushed to pacify him. “It’ll be fine! It’s really chill. Plus you’ll have me.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“My worst nightmare,” Keith said wryly.

“Hey!” Lance said. “I promise, I won’t leave you alone.”

“That’s different from how you usually act? You’ve been a thorn in my side for a while, McClain.”

“Never mind! I try to be nice, geez…”

They arrived at a small, rather mundane looking suburban house. From the street, Keith could hear the boom of the music inside, and he recoiled. “It’ll be fine,” Lance said, softly, as if anticipating Keith’s worry.

They stepped inside and were instantly besieged by a sea of people, more people than had any business fitting into a modest living room. They were all dancing, (really, more like hopping up and down to the beat) smacking into each other in the confined space.

A tall boy emerged from the crowd, barreling right at them. “Hey, Lance!” He boomed, holding out his arms. Lance rushed in and gave him a hug. “How’s it going, dude?”

“Never been better,” Lance said, shooting a quick glance at Keith.

“Who’s your plus one?” The boy said, leaning around Lance. 

“Oh!” Lance said. “Keith, this is James. James, Keith.”

“Nice to meet you, Keith!” James said.

“Yeah, you too.” Keith said. That was the extent of his conversational abilities. James seemed nice. A mild person. He was Lance’s friend, so he couldn’t be so bad, Keith figured.

A lone voice shouted from the crowd, “WHEN’S THE PIZZA COMING?”

“WHENEVER IT COMES, ASHLEY!” James answered. He slipped into the crowd, presumably looking for Ashley.

“There you go,” Lance said.

“Huh?”

“You made your first friend.” 

“I guess.” 

Lance slid his arm around Keith’s shoulders. “Wanna go get a drink?”

“Sure.”

“I love the enthusiasm.”

“Sorry, I mean, WOO, BEER!”

“WOO! BEER!” The crowd responded. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Lance said. 

They forged forward, parting the sea of partygoers, hearing the occasional “ouch” as feet were stepped on, and drinks were spilled. 

Eventually, they emerged into a small kitchen. Lance pulled a couple beers out of the cooler and tossed one over to Keith. He clutched it like a lifeline.

Lance took a long swig. “I’m guessing you don’t wanna dance.”

“Not particularly.” 

“Alright,” Lance scanned the room. “Let’s go over there.” He pointed to a long, sagging couch in the corner. A boy and girl sat there, laughing uproariously. 

“Lead the way.”

They sat. Lance turned to talk to the two sitting beside them. At this point, their laughter had stopped, and their lips were furiously locked.

“Huh,” Keith said.

Lance’s cheeks blazed. “This is awkward, uh, let’s go dance then?”

“Nah, I’d definitely rather sit here on makeout couch with these two.” Keith gestures to the couple, who had now devolved way past actions that should be done in public.

“Gross!” Lance cried. “Like you’d get any action, Mullet.”

They stood up. Lance began to wade into the crowd. Keith grabbed his arm, stopping him at the edge. “Let’s stay outside,” Keith said. “I don’t know how to dance.”

——

Keith nodded his head to the beat. Lance, meanwhile, was showing off to the people around them, executing hip hop moves that looked more like Big Time Rush than anything else. He chattered with the people around them, throwing his head back in laughter. He looked so alive.

Keith wanted to replicate that feeling in himself, but he didn’t know how. It wasn’t something you could learn. It wasn’t something you could force. Some people were just happier than others. Maybe, if he spent enough time around Lance, he’d be able to absorb the feeling that came off Lance in spades. Lance was radiant.

No point. This was just for one night. He was getting too carried away.

Keith drained his beer. He went to the kitchen to grab another, without saying a word to Lance. He was having fun. Keith didn’t want to interrupt.

Lance shot a somewhat worried glance back at Keith. “Alright.” Keith disappeared into the mess of people, bumping into several people as he went.  
He pulled a beer out of the cooler, draining it within a minute. He took another.

Keith stared at the floor, and took a gulp of his drink.

“And who might you be?”

Keith looked up, a response sticking in his throat. A boy with long, silvery blonde hair stood there. He was tall, intimidating.

“Uh… I’m Keith.”

“I’m Lotor,” the boy purred, sticking out his hand to shake Keith’s. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Mayor Zarkon. I’m his son.”

Was that supposed to impress Keith?

“Cool,” Keith said. He took a sip of his drink. Lotor’s eyes lingered on Keith.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Lotor said coolly. 

Keith shrugged. “I guess not.”

“I guess we don’t really need to talk, but…”

“Keith!” Lance called from across the room. “Where are you?”

Keith started to walk to Lance, and found his way blocked. Lotor loomed over him.

“I’ve seen you in a few of my classes,” Lotor said. “You’re a prestigious honors student. You should really be careful of what company you keep.” Lotor put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, tracing his collar bone. “After all, you’re a pretty amazing guy.”

Keith shrugged Lotor away. His touch was unpleasant, crawling. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly. He followed Lance’s voice. 

——

“Lance? Lance!” Keith called. As the crowd shifted and rotated, it was getting harder for Keith to figure out where he was. It was like a maze game he played as a kid, where you tilt the box to guide the ball through. Keith didn’t feel guided. He felt seasick. 

Someone grabbed Keith’s arm. He turned, thinking it was Lotor, only to see a short blonde girl. “Hey,” she said, setting her hand on her hip. “You’re Lance’s new piece, huh?”

“Um, no-“

Her eyes grew intense. “Well, when you see him, tell him my life’s gotten WAY better since I dumped him!” 

“Uh, okay.”

“Might as well move on now,” she said, shoving past Keith. “He’ll get bored. He always does.”

Okay then. Keith chalked it up to drunken stupidity. He himself wasn’t feeling so good. He felt dizzy. He couldn’t find Lance. His head was blurry.

Things couldn’t get much worse.

And then, the lights went out.

People shrieked and cheered in excitement. Keith covered his ears. This isn’t a pep rally, people.

A strobe light turned on. Colors cycled around the room. The outlines of unfamiliar people’s necks and cheeks and faces were thrown into technicolor. All faces that weren’t Lance’s. Keith spun, and there Lance was, right in front of him. Blue. His face knitted in concern.

“Keith, you okay man?”

He stared at Lance, seeing his face outlined by red, then blue, then purple, then green.

Then, Lance was pulled away. “Hey Lance, where’d you get this one?” “He’s real cute.” “Mind if I step in?” 

“WE AREN’T DA-“ 

Keith vaguely overheard the exchanges around him. He didn’t fully register their words. It was all one big slur. Something was building within him, swelling in his chest, ready to burst. He felt the people pressing in on him, surrounding him, suffocating him with their eyes and their lurid colors and their beer.

Lance’s eyes, now flashing orange and pink, studied Keith. His hand touched Keith’s shoulder. “Keith, are you…” Lance started.

Keith pushed his hand off. “I can’t-I- door-“ he stumbled out, pushing through people as fast as he could, hearing a bottle shatter on the floor, and break, smash, burst apart- He was inflating, his feet lifted off the floor, and he sailed into the sky, a lost balloon with no string-

Keith collapsed on the cold grass. He pitched forward and vomited. He shook. Tears ran out of his eyes. 

I’m never going to a party again, he thought.

It was freezing. His jacket was wet. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get in bed. He wanted to pretend this never happened. Why did Keith think he could change when he’s been like this since birth?

“Keith?”

Lance. Keith pulled himself up, wobbling. The world was upside down. The grass was the ceiling. Keith hung on tight.

Lance couldn’t find him. No one could find him looking like this. Keith ran across the street.

“Keith, where are you going? Stop!” He heard Lance running behind him.

He let Shiro down. He let Allura down. He let his dad down. He let himself down. 

He let Lance down.

Keith fell. He stayed where he was, rolling onto his side. Not only did he feel ashamed, he felt angry. Lance was the reason he came here and had a giant fucking breakdown in the first place. It wasn’t that fair to blame him, but Keith was not in a fair mood. 

“Keith!” He sat up.

Keith’s emotion flooded into his words. . “I NEVER SHOULD HAVE GONE WITH YOU AND GOTTEN DRUNK-“

“-Keith-“

“I FEEL REALLY FUCKED UP NOW-”

“Keith, I-“

“-AND MY HOUSING PROGRAM COULD FIND OUT-“

“Keith!”

“AND I LOOK REALLY STUPID NOW-“

“KEITH!”

“WHAT!?”

“There wasn’t any alcohol in your drink.”

——

“I’m such an idiot.” Keith said, pushing his head into his hands. Maybe if I close my eyes and sit really still, Lance will leave and I’ll die and never have to think about this again.

“Keith, really, it’s no big deal. I should have told you it was an alcohol free party, that’s James’s thing, he likes nonalcoholic beer. But you seemed excited about it , so I just shut up.”

“I ruined the party for you and you’re the only reason I went in the first place.” Keith groaned.

Lance shivered. Between his feeling of failure and the cold, biting night air, he was overwhelmed. “You didn’t need to come just for me…”

“Yeah I did! ‘Cause you were begging me and shit! How was I supposed to say no?” 

Lance sank onto the grass, facing away from Keith. “Well, damn. I didn’t want to force you to do anything, Keith. I just thought we could have fun together.” Lances voice was thick, and he sniffled.

“Are you crying?” Keith nudged Lance. He didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m the one that fucked up.” Lance said, still facing away from Keith.

Keith sat next to Lance.

“We both kind of messed up, how about that?”

“Not true, but okay.” Lance smiled, wiping a tear away from his face. 

“We’ll have to leave it at that, won’t we?” Keith didn’t have the energy to argue with Lance. He was so exhausted, he felt like his bones were melting into the ground. He leaned his head on Lance’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Lance stiffened in surprise.

“Don’t say anything.” Keith mumbled. “Just let me sit for a minute.”

They sat there awhile. Heat radiated off Keith’s body. Lance resisted the urge to pull him closer and absorb every last drop of heat on his body. It was so cold, and Keith was so warm. He looked at Keith, taking in the moment. His eyes were closed, long black eyelashes sweeping underneath. His jaw was traced with a thin silver line, silhouetted against the moon. Keith looked so peaceful, defenseless, compared to the way he usually was. 

Peaceful, defenseless, and yet Lance had let him down. He felt awful. He let his fingers brush Keith’s arm, just briefly.

“Can I make it up to you?” He said.

——

“I didn’t realize that shitty milkshakes were a way to make up for things,” Keith said.

“Do not talk about my girl Sonic like that,” Lance replied, patting their booth protectively. “These milkshakes aren’t shitty, they’re economical.”

Keith studied the list. “I can't pick.” There were at least thirty options swimming before his tired eyes. He closed his eyes and pointed. “Cherry pineapple extravaganza it is.”

“Extrava- wow, I didn’t know they sold that. You don’t have a usual?” Lance asked.

Keith shrugged. “Vanilla. I’ve had enough of the same. Let’s change things up.”

“I’ll stick with my regular, thanks.”

Lance stuck with his favorite: Oreo. Keith took a sip of his extravaganza.

“When did you move here?” Lance said, studying Keith, holding his straw between his fingers.

Keith was stunned. “How did you know I moved here?”

“There’s only one middle school in the area, and only one gifted class. And I don’t remember seeing you there.” Lance was smarter than Keith gave him credit for. 

“Jesus. You’re sharp.”

“So?” Lance prompted him.

“Last year. I moved here from Texas.”

“Why? Your parents get a new job?”

Keith’s throat was dry. He hated talking about his parents. “Actually, I moved here by myself.”

“Huh?” Lance’s straw dropped from his mouth.

“Yeah. I was stuck in the shitty foster program, so I legally emancipated myself. There wasn’t any point in waiting around. I didn’t wanna live there anymore, so I came here. There’s a housing program here for kids like me. So I only pay for my groceries and stuff.” It was more than Keith planned on sharing. He’d shared enough of himself with Lance tonight.

“You went to the Garrison when you got here, right? Can’t you just stay in their dorms?”

“It’s optional. I’d rather not. And I went to the normal high school for a semester before that, actually.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You’re telling me we went to the same school at the same time?”

“Guess so.”

“And never saw each other once?”

“We must have had different schedules,” Keith reasoned.

Lance was disappointed. “That really blows. We could’ve been buddies.”

“Didn’t you hate me anyways?” Keith asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“No, I just… my teachers are really annoying about you. It just gets tiring.”

“Oh.”

“So.” Lance looked like he wanted to say something. “You…”

“Spit it out, McClain.”

“Well, I really really really don’t want to make you mad by asking.” Lance stared at his fingers, twisting a straw wrapper between them.

“I guarantee you won’t.”

“Well,” Lance asked, “What happened to your parents?”

“Gave me up when I was six.” Keith said shortly. Lance seemed to be waiting for more, but tonight had been shitty enough, and Keith wasn’t about to get into it.

Lance stared at Keith, feeling the barrier that has just gone up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to pry. Sorry that all happened, dude.”

Keith shrugged. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. It’s just the way things are.” 

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know you are.”

Lance sipped his milkshake and shifted in his seat. Keith studied him. He didn’t seem like the kind of person with a rocky home life, based on what little he had told Keith. Keith figured he felt guilty. 

Keith leaned his head on his hand. “Tell me about your family.” 

Instantly, Lance’s demeanor changed.

“Well, I have a mom, and a dad and a grandma, and we all live together. Then I have five siblings-“

“Five?”

“Yeah, we’re a big family. You should see our family reunions.”

“What’s your sibling’s names?” Keith asked. Lance looked nonplussed; Keith didn’t usually show this much interest in his life.

“Well, my littlest brother is Benny. He’s the one who ran around with the paint today. Then there’s Maria, my little sister. She’s a total diva. Then there’s me.”

“You’re a middle child.”

“Yeah, but I’m basically the oldest now, because my older sisters, Valentina and Emma, are in college. So I get to be in charge.”

“Sounds like a brilliant idea.”

“I’m pretty good at being a big brother, thank you!”

“Hey, as long as your siblings are alive.”

Lance scoffed. “You don’t even know! They do the craziest shit all the time! One time, we were on a family vacation to the Grand Canyon, right? So Benny and Maria somehow get the idea that if they try hard enough and use a lasso toy they got in their happy meal, they can climb into the canyon. So my mom and I turn around for one second, and the next, the guide is screaming, and Benny and Maria are going to the edge. I literally had to sprint over there and pull them away, and what did I get in return? They ignored me the rest of the day.”

“Oh my god.”

“My family is crazy.”

“They sound great,” Keith said.

“They are. They really are.” Lance smiled fondly. His eyes were far away. It made Keith’s chest hurt. “You could meet them sometime.”

“Maybe.”

“Our family throws a lot of parties.”

Keith said, wryly, “Yeah, and we all saw what happened the last time you dragged me to a party.”

“That’s different. This party sucked.” Lance leaned back, satisfied to have admitted it.

“You think so too?”

“Yeah! Half the people there were total dicks. Besides James. Like, that asshole Lotor was there. You might know him, the mayor’s son?”

Keith didn’t know if it was a good idea to tell Lance what happened. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”

“He goes out of his way to make everyone miserable. Boy am I glad he goes to the Garrison.”

“Lucky me.”

“But you’re good at ignoring people. I’m not. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.” Keith drained his milkshake. “You sure you’re not good at ignoring people?”

“What!? Why are you coming for me like this?”

“I’m not, but there was this girl at the party… she had a lot to say about you. She said you get bored of people.”

“Oh, her. She used to be my girlfriend. You got a girlfriend?” Lance asked.

“Wha- Don’t change the subject!”

“Be patient, I’ll tell you the story. I was just wondering.” Lance put his hands up defensively. “Cause we were talking about girlfriends and all. You seem like the kinda guy who’d have one.” 

“No. I don’t. Do you?” 

“Nah.”

Keith didn’t care for this subject. “Okay, tell me the story now.”

“Okay, well, we dated for a year, and she was insanely jealous. Any time she saw me talking to anyone-boy or girl-she accused me of cheating and I’d have to calm her down. It was awful. Especially when I told her I’m bi.”

Lance is bi. Keith froze. Lance noted his reaction. “What, you have a problem with that?” He said, his face closing off.

Keith quickly clarified. “No, no. I was just surprised. Continue.”

“Yeah, so she went apeshit on me and we broke up. Ever since then, no matter who she sees me with, she warns them about how awful a person I am.”

“You are pretty awful.” Keith agreed.

Lance sputtered. “No I’m not! I’m the best!”

“Best at being the worst!”

Lance sighed. “I am.”

Keith sighed too. “Me too.”

“Bet I’m better at being the worst than you are.”

They looked at each other and began to cackle. Lance smacked the table. Keith ducked his face into the booth. Eventually, they died down.

“We’re total messes, aren’t we?” Keith said. 

Lance snickered. “Hey, at least we can be messes together. Some people don’t have that.”

Keith hesitated. This was it. Lance actually wanted to be friends with Keith. Puzzling. Convention told him to push Lance away. That was the way he operated. But why? Because he was used to the way things have been?

Keith didn’t care to admit it, but he liked spending time with Lance. Why cut this off? He always cut himself off from others. That ended now.

“Yeah, together.” Keith said.

Lance winked. “Just the two of us,” he said, leaning over the table. Now, that was too far.

“Shut up,” Keith said, throwing his straw at Lance.

Lance deflected it, chuckling. “You can’t deny it, Keith!”

Keith smiled. “Try me.”

——

Keith unlocked the door and walked in. “I’m home,” he said. He expected no answer, but the silence stung all the same. He hadn’t realized how heavy the silence really was. He’d spent so much time with Lance it was hard to adjust to being alone again.

His bed was a haven after the night he’d endured. Keith sprawled out across his blankets.

Keith knew he couldn’t be happy by ignoring his problems. If anything, tonight had proved that. He couldn’t absorb happiness from Lance. He had to make it for himself.

Keith was going to change things.


	3. Where the Child Things Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance’s meddling in Keith’s life has grown more frequent since the party. The only difference is that Keith welcomes it.

9/15  
I don’t have much to talk about today. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge aren’t here. It’s so quiet without them. 

I swear, I’ve read every book in the damn library from Pride and Prejudice to Slaughterhouse Five at this point. I’m so bored-

“-eith.”

Keith’s writing was interrupted by Allura, who stood over him, a sheepish smile on her face. “Huh?” He said.

Nervously twisting her fingers, she asked, “Keith, can you do me the biggest favor?”

“I don’t have much else to do.”

“There are kids coming in for a reading circle today, but I forgot I have to teach the Internet for Seniors class. Could you read to them?”

His initial instinct was a NO. A big, flashing, neon red, NO. Kids were loud, irritating. They made everything they touched sticky. They threw tantrums over the mildest, most unpredictable details. Keith couldn’t understand kids for the life of him. Even when he was a kid, he couldn’t. Not to mention, parents could be insufferable. Constantly nagging about the welfare of their kids, threatening a lawsuit if one of the snot brained idiots fell down and broke an arm. 

Keith worked at the library to get away from those inconveniences. Instead, they came to him.

“It’s just that Shiro isn’t coming today.” She said apologetically.

Keith grunted in response.

He’d realized that forcing himself to stay in his small bubble of comfort was less than ideal. If he was going to become a better person, he was gonna push himself out of his comfort zone. His teachers called it “character building.” 

Hell, maybe he’d learn something from them. Worth a try.

There wasn’t much else to do.

“Please, Keith? I’ll owe you one!”

“Fine,” he caved. “When?”

“Actually- I’m so so sorry for being unorganized- in five minutes.” Allura gestured to a group of people, who Keith swore weren’t there a minute ago. They waited patiently outside the door of the Children’s section, accompanied by their antsy kids. A steady stream of people trickled in as they spoke.

“WHAT!?” Keith dove out of his chair.

\----

A minute later, Keith was sitting on a rug in the children’s center, with a ring of expectant children surrounding him. What do kids read? Keith dug through the shelves around him, looking for a good title. The Rainbow Fish, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Cat in the Hat, the-

The Cat in the Hat.

Keith picked it up and smiled. In his mind, this book was inextricably linked with Lance. “Do you guys like The Cat in the Hat?” He asked.

There was hardly a response. The kids looked sullen. Likely dragged there by their parents, their presences were limp, uncaring. Keith could hardly complain, since he felt the same way. He opened up the book and began to read. The door to the Children’s Center noisily creaked open. Figuring it was a late arrival, Keith continued the story.

“Hey Keith, mind if I join in?” Keith closed his eyes and hoped it wasn’t Lance.

It was Lance.

“Whatcha up to, Keith?”

“What does it look like? Can you please go? I’m trying to read.”

“Read? Kids need excitement, not books! Sword fights, karate chops!”

Lance gestured to the children, who were paying significantly more attention. There was a sparkle in Lance’s eye, and Keith saw in an instant what Lance was trying to do. He didn’t necessarily agree, but what was the harm in playing along?

“If you don’t go, I’m gonna karate chop you,” Keith said, pretending to be angry.

Lance adopted a flamboyant fighting stance. “Go ahead, I can take it!”

Then proceeded an entirely harmless, silly duel, which must have taken five minutes, in which rulers were used intermittently as lightsabers and swords, and they weaved in and out of bookshelves, dodging imaginary blows. The kids, fully engaged, cheered and gasped when appropriate. Really, they were becoming great listeners. 

Lance reached out and pulled Keith close, feigning a final struggle. “We can’t fool around for too long, the parents will notice.” He chuckled to himself. “Fool around, that’s a good one.”

Keith’s face was reminiscent of a tomato. “Lance! Don’t test pick up lines on me!” He angrily whispered. He hauled Lance out of the Children’s Center and slammed the door behind him. “And stay out!”

The kids, stunned, stared at Keith, wide-eyed at this feat of strength. “Wow,” A boy in the front said. “He’s a ninja.”

“Or a samurai.” A second voice chimed in.

“Or a cowboy!”

“Behind you!” A girl cried, pointing to the window. Lance stood there, pressing his nose to the glass, looking comically pitiful. He fogged up the glass with his breath and wrote. “Keith, let me in,” It read. Backwards.

Keith pondered this. “What do you think? Should I let him in?”

“No! He could be a pirate!”

“Or a wizard!”

“What if he’s a good wizard?”

“Yeah, he could be good!”

“Or bad!”

“How about this,” Keith said. The kids’ eyes were instantly fixed on him, and they quieted. “We ask him if he’ll be nice and listen to the book too. Everyone deserves a chance.” 

They pondered this choice for a minute. Upon vote, they agreed, and Lance was allowed back into the Children’s Center. The children, curious, swarmed around him.

As Keith read the Cat in the Hat, Lance sat and watched him. He listened to Keith’s smooth, fluid voice, narrating a story he had never read before, making the words sound brand new. Children clustered on the rug, completely loyal to Keith, willing to listen to his story, because he had a certain air about him, that while remote, was very charming. Lance closed his eyes, and heard the Cat in the Hat just like how he used to, laying in bed with his Mama at his side.

Keith’s voice was soft and gentle when he read, much gentler than Lance ever imagined Keith to be. He recalled warm milk and honey, the whisper of wind through the bushes in the summer, the padding of a cat in a silent room. This burst into his head, sudden and vivid, and he reveled in the intensity he felt. Keith’s voice ceased, and Lance opened his eyes to realize all the children had left, and the story was over. Keith sat still on the floor across from him, a look of curiosity on his face, which was swiftly wiped clean.

“Fall asleep?” Keith teased.

“Yeah, you’re so boring I fell asleep before you even started,” Lance shot back. With great effort, he pulled himself up from the rug, swaying. Keith smirked.

Keith pulled the door open for Lance, and disappeared behind his desk for the rest of the day, grateful to get some time alone.

\----

Lance lounged on a plush couch, devouring a stack of comics. Keith, finished with his shift, approached him from behind. “So, you gonna explain what all that play fighting was about?” Keith said, appearing over Lance.

“It said interactive reading,” Lance said, unbothered. “I figured they could use a little excitement. I was so fidgety when my mom dragged me in here to get read to. I put on little shoes for Benny and Maria before we came, to get them excited. It’s a tradition.”

“I could have just read to them. It doesn’t need to be that great.”

“Yeah, but they liked you more after we did it. Didn’t it feel different?”

Keith couldn’t deny that. 

“Your shift took forever. Let’s go home,” Lance said, as if he and Keith had a tradition of leaving the library together, as if their relationship were second nature, as if they lived together. Keith followed him to the door.

“Keith, wait!” Allura said, emerging from the back. “Keith, I was wondering, since the kids seemed to like your session so much, could you continue? I know children aren’t your favorite, but…”

“I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Allura said, not expecting that answer.

“I was going to ask you if I could. I liked doing it.” I’m giving up every Saturday morning for this, he thought. Is it worth it?

Allura blinked, then smiled at him warmly. “I’m so glad to hear it, Keith.”

It is.

He smiled back at her. Lance was looking between the two of them, with an indeterminate expression on his face.

“Let’s go, Keith,” he said. 

\----

-I have a hypothesis: Engaging people is what makes them like you. Shocking, I know. I guess my common sense doesn’t extend well into real life.

Today was exhausting.  
I still hate children.

And Lance is the biggest child I know.  
Keith.

——

When Keith walked out of the Garrison on Monday, Lance was outside the gate. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I walk home on this route. I get lonely. Walk with me.”

“A please would be nice.”

They set out down the sidewalk. “What’s it like going to the rich school?” Lance said.

Keith snorted. “It sucks.”

“Figured.”

Tires screeched behind them. They turned to see Lotor, in a Mercedes, speeding down the street. His eyes fixed on Lance dismissively. “Trash!” He spat, tossing his soda can out the window. It landed at Lance’s feet. 

Lance picked up the can with shaking fingers. Then, he lost it. 

“You missed! Asshole!” Lance hurled the can with all his might at Lotor’s car, hitting the bumper. Lotor’s only response.

Lance turned to Keith, his chest heaving. “Let’s just go home,” he said. 

Keith had never seen Lance so angry.

Lance was uncharacteristically quiet the whole way home.

\----

A week later, they sat in the parking lot of the Sonic, drinking milkshakes. Today, Keith was drinking caramel delight. Lance stuck with his oreo.

Lance tossed his cup towards the trash. “Bam!”

It bounced off the rim. Keith laughed.

“Let’s see you do it, smartass,”

“Easy.” Keith said, and chucked his cup at the can. It briefly caught on the edge, then fell to the ground.

“Ha!”

“What the fuck,” said Keith, mystified that his perfect shot could have missed.

“See how it feels?”

“It’s broken.”

“Seems perfectly functional to me.”

“Really? Because there’s a piece of trash next to it when it should be inside.”

“Where?” Lance looked around the can, then at himself. “Wait. You-” Lance yelled, and began to chase Keith. 

Keith ran, howling with laughter, to the nearby trees. He heard Lance’s shouts behind him. The branches crunched under his feet. He clambered up a tall, sturdy tree, seeing Lance’s approach from above. Lance looked up at Keith. Abandoning the battle, he followed Keith up.

Lance gingerly tapped Keith’s branch with his foot. “You think this branch could hold both of us?”

Keith said, “Try it.”

It did, although shuddering a bit under their combined weight. 

They went silent. It smelled of pine. The wood opened up into a clearing. From above, it was an ocean of grass. Keith lost himself gazing at it. The only thing keeping him on the branch was Lance’s presence beside him, an anchor. 

Their legs brushed each other in the small space. Looking at Lance up close, Keith noticed the way the sun shone golden on his skin. His blue eyes were clear, almost see-through. And yet Lance was anything but clear to Keith. 

Lance broke the silence. “Keith, never call me trash again.” He said. His eyes were opaque again, closed off.

“I didn’t mean it. It was a joke.”

“It reminds me of Lotor.” Lance’s lips were set in a hard line.

“I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, feeling a pit in his stomach. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, the kids at that school see me as trash too.”

“You’re trash with potential. I’m useless trash. There’s a difference to them.”

Keith frowned. “You aren’t useless. Look at me.” Lance’s stormy blue eyes met his. “You. Aren’t. Useless. I won’t call you trash ever again. But don’t let them get to you like that.”

“I’ll try.” Lance said. It didn’t seem like he believed him.

“Their opinions are worthless, trust me.”

“Let’s just drop it.”

They sat and listened to the forest for awhile. Birds sang, leaves rustled, life moved on all around them. 

”I just remembered,” Lance said.

“Huh?”

“Keith, I want to show you something.” 

“I swear to god Lance, if this is another meme-“

“It’s not,” Lance said. “This time.”

“Ugh.”

“This is really important to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Lance grinned. Keith’s phone buzzed, and he answered it. “Hello?”

“It’s Allura. Where are you?”

Lance’s face darkened.

“Isn’t my shift at 6?” Keith said, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Sorry, I thought you saw my email. We had to move it to the 4:30-7.”

“Shit. I’ll be there.” He hung up. “Can you show me tomorrow?” He said to Lance, beginning his descent from the tree.

“Yeah, sure,” Lance said, his eyes distant.

Keith wasn’t sure why, but he felt rotten. At the base of the tree, before setting off to the library, he stopped. “Give me your phone,” Keith said.

Lance pulled his phone out and gave it to Keith. He began to tap at the screen. “What are you doing?”

“I put in my number,” Keith said. “Just call me and tell me where to go.”

\----

Lance sent an address leading downtown. Not the nicest area, but Keith liked it better than the suburbs. He stopped in front of a small, squat garage. The sign read AUTO SHOP in clumsy letters. According to the text, this was it.

Keith opened the door, which whacked something immediately behind it. “Ow!” The something complained. 

“Lance, don’t stand behind a door if you don’t want to get hit.”

“I was gonna scare you!”

“Good try.”

Lance turned into the shop. “Hey! Guess who’s here!” He shouted.

Hunk, seeing Keith in the doorway, jolted in the middle of fixing an engine, and a stream of black oil squirted in his face. He squealed in frustration and groped around, trying desperately to shut it off. 

“Finally! I thought you’d never bring Keith,” Pidge said, rolling off her perch and stretching. 

Hunk was hardly recognizable, covered in car gunk. “How’s it going, Keith?” He attempted a hug. Keith elegantly dodged. Hunk looked down at his dripping clothes. “Oh.” 

“Go take a shower, dude,” Lance said, clapping Hunk on the back.

“But the car-”

“Just leave it alone for a bit, it’s fine.”

Hunk left, looking anxiously at the car, which by now had ceased the spurting and ominously rumbled.

“No idea what happened to that one,” Pidge said. “The owner brought it in yesterday and it’s been pretty much fighting us whenever we try to figure it out.”

“I don’t know anything about cars,” Keith said. “Sorry.”

Pidge studied him over the rim of her glasses. “Didn’t expect you to.”

Unsure of whether that was an assurance or an insult, Keith let it slide. He studied Pidge’s area. Multiple computer monitors, winding wires. A model car on top of a stack of papers. Papers on the floor. Papers tacked to the wall. Paper everywhere. And energy drinks. So, so many energy drinks. “I would say excuse the mess but I’m not ashamed,” said Pidge. 

“Didn’t expect you to be,” Keith said.

His area, filled with an area of neat, lovingly displayed tools, although now covered in a coat of oil, was picturesque. 

Lance asked, “You wanna see where I work?” 

There was a detached area, likely supposed to be a bedroom, which was now functioning as an office.

Keith noticed The Art of Persuasion on Lance’s desk, already highlighted and bookmarked as much as a book can be. He felt pride at that.

“You like it?” Lance said. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Keith asked.

“Since last year.”

“What gave you the idea?”

“It’s a long story, I’m sure you don’t care.”

“I do.” He said. “I really do.”

“Oh, well, since you asked…” Lance said, and immediately launched into his tale. “One time we found a broken down Mercedes in this field near my house and took it apart. A lot of the parts were completely usable. Pidge has always been good at computation, and Hunk knows mechanics, so after a while of experimenting with it, we decided to rebuild. Somehow whatever stopped it from starting was working. So we had a shiny, basically new Mercedes sitting in Hunk’s garage.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. We managed to sell it off.”

“Who bought it?”

Lance sighed, pushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead. “Lotor. It’s really annoying that he was our first customer, but we got a shit ton of money from it. Yeah, he was an asshole the entire time we dealt with him.”

“Anyways, we used that money to purchase scrap parts from the junkyard, and pretty soon we had another car built. And then we started to do repairs. Then we moved locations because we were making a lot more money.”

“What do you do here?”

Lance looked sheepish. “It’s not really as cool as what Pidge and Hunk do.”

“What are you talking about? Everything here is cool,” Keith said. “Just tell me.”

“I sell them,” Lance said. “The cars, that is.”

That’s why Lance was reading that book. It all fell together. 

Keith found it endearing. He’d figured Lance to be the kind of person who didn’t care that much, who just showed up, his haphazard, charming self, and sold a car on the fly. But however secretly, Lance sat, read, furthered his knowledge. The amount Lance could care was staggering. And yet he felt he wasn’t enough.

For all the bravado he showed, Lance had just as many weaknesses as Keith. 

“Dude, what are you talking about? That’s amazing. You’re literally a high school entrepreneur.” Maybe Keith was gushing more than he usually did, but Lance needed it.

“You think so?”

“You’re selling people cars! You’re how old, 17?”

“18.”

“That’s crazy.” Keith couldn’t believe how far Lance was selling himself short. Based on Lance’s reaction, he wasn’t used to receiving compliments for what he did. 

“Uh, thanks. I just remembered, I have to go grab stuff from the store,” Lance wheezed, his voice stilted, his face scarlet, retreating.

“That’s fine. I’ll hang here with Hunk and Pidge.”

Lance dashed out of the room. No one (apart from Hunk and Pidge) ever asked about what he did, acted like it was valuable. He was just another part of the machine. Keith looked at Lance like he cared about him, and honestly, it was too much.

——

Keith sat at Lance’s desk. It was neat, much neater than he’d imagined Lance could be. He had separate containers for pencils, pens, post-its, paper clips- you name it, Lance had it. There were Polaroids of his family pinned to the wall beside his desk. A family photo- Lance, his mother, his father, and his younger siblings. Looked recent. A photo of each family member, taken candidly, with either no reaction or looks of panic. Benny, Keith assumed, as he was the youngest boy, was spitting his mouthful of cereal at the camera. Then there was Hunk, and Pidge. And- no, that wasn’t right. 

There was a picture of Keith too, at the very bottom, nearest to the desk. He was hunched over the library counter, presumably reading. Lance, that little shit, must have taken it when he wasn’t looking.

Was that what Keith looked like? Did he always look that stressed?

Sick of sitting by himself, Keith left the room to find Pidge and Hunk. 

Pidge, predictably, was on her computer, typing faster than humanly possible. Hunk sat on a couch against the far wall, having just showered.

Keith gestured to the garage. “You guys thinking about continuing this after high school?” His voice echoed oddly in the space, as if mocking him. 

Hunk said, modestly, “Honestly, man, I have no idea what I want to do. I really like doing this.” He joked, “But I also really like cooking, so now I don’t know whether to follow my heart or my stomach.”

“I saw the job you did on Lo- you-know-who’s- car. Impressive.”

“Thanks, dude.” 

“What kinda food do you cook?”

“What kind-” Hunk scoffed. “I can cook anything! I’ll have you know my baking is the best you’ll ever taste. And my gumbo? Nothing to sniff at. But you also might wanna sniff at it because it smells pretty good too.”

“Good one.” Pidge said, still tapping away at her computer. The glare of the screen made her glasses white, her eyes impenetrable.

“What about you, Pidge?”

“I wanna be an engineer.”

“You design the cars, right?”

“Yeah. Things here are working in my favor, in terms of experience. I’ll stick around for a while.”

“You seem like the kinda person who’d want to move away.”

“Amazing. Every word of what you just said was wrong.” Pidge sighed. “Well, not completely. But I love my dad too much to leave.”

“Who knew you were so family oriented?”

“Shut up.”

Lance swung the door open. He teetered, a stack of groceries in his arms. “A little help?”

“What’d you buy all these snacks for?” Hunk said, gently guiding the bags to the floor.

“Movie marathon, dude.” He explained to Keith, “We like to project movies on the wall in here. Tonight it’s Star Wars.”

“I’ve never seen Star Wars.” Keith noted.

“What!?”

“I was always more of a Star Trek guy.”

“Some opinions are wrong. Prepare for your life to change.”

——

They laid blankets along the floor, and watched all of the Star Wars movies, booing at Jar Jar Binks, cheering for Princess Leia. By the end, with Lance’s prompting, Keith was fully invested.

“Dude, Kylo Ren is hot,” Lance said to Hunk.

“What!? No way!” He complained.

Pidge chimed in, “Do you find mass murderers attractive?”

“Dude! It’s not that deep!” Lance fired back.

“Keith, back us up on this one!”

Keith studied the screen. “I’ll have to side with Lance on this one.”

“HAH!”

“You just like him cause he looks like Keith,” Pidge said.

“What the actual fuck, Pidge!” Lance cried, tossing a pillow at Pidge. “No he doesn’t!”

Keith pretended he didn’t hear that. 

Not ten minutes later, Hunk and Pidge were knocked out, and Keith and Lance were finishing the most recent movie.

Lance struggled to find a way to ask Keith something, and make it feel organic. He decided to relate it to Star Wars.

“You like Kylo too, huh? And here I thought you liked Allura.”

“What? Allura’s my coworker.”

Lance sounded bitter. “You drop everything for her.”

“Oh,” Keith said. “You’ve been getting the wrong idea.” 

Lance paled.

“I don’t like girls,” Keith said. “She’s all yours.”

A huge bomb of information dropped on Lance. Keith doesn’t like women. Keith thinks I like Allura.

I don’t.

“Sweet,” Lance said. 

\----

10/16  
Usually, the closer I get to winter, the more alone I feel. Is it the weather? The cold? The schoolwork? The lack of friends? Who knows.

All I know is that it doesn’t feel like that anymore. Whether that’s good or bad, I’m still deciding.  
-Keith.

“You free on Halloween?” Lance said, sliding over to the library counter, Hunk at his side.

“I was gonna go home and sleep. If this is another party, you can forget about it.”

“I wasn’t thinking party, I was thinking trick or treating.”

“Lance. I don’t wear costumes.”

“When’s the last time you wore one?”

Keith was silent.

“Keith, we are going as a duo and that’s that.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Lance. No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“You’d look so good in a costume!”

“No I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would!”

Hunk entered, setting down his backpack. “What are y’all arguing about this time?”

“Keith would look good in a costume, right?”

“Depends on which costume.”

Lance leaned over and whispered in Hunk’s ear. Hunk gasped. “Lance, that’s amazing.”

“I know!”

“Maybe I’ll consider it, if you tell me what’s going on!” Keith snapped, feeling annoyed and left out.

“Consider this: You. Me. Outfit swap.”

“Shut up.”

“And then, we go trick or treating and see who can get more candy.”

“Do I look five to you?”

“Chocolate knows no age limit!”

It’s not that Keith didn’t want to hang out with Lance, he did, but spending his time walking around dressed like Lance (disgusting) and begging for candy from adults (even worse)? He’d rather spend his time at the library. He needed money. There’d need to be a pretty good reason for him to skip out on a night’s wages.

“I’m switching with Pidge,” Hunk said, chiming in. 

“Is it humanly possible for you to fit in Pidge’s clothes?”

“Actually, yeah,” Lance said. “It’s like origami. Really impressive.”

“You should really come,” said Hunk. “We’re going to the rich neighborhood. I know for a fact Ms. Thompson gives out candy bars.”

That was a pretty good reason.

Keith folded his arms, in negotiation mode. “I’ll go trick and treating with you under one condition: give me your kit kats.”

“Done and done.”

——

10/31  
I’m trick or treating today with Lance. You heard me. 

I’m pretty excited. I remember reading about it in Stephen King books. I remember watching Halloween movies. I don’t remember going.

Lately I feel like a child again.  
-Keith.

The October air was, surprisingly, milder than it was in September. It lacked the viciousness of the air. Keith stood and inhaled. There was an inherent feeling on days like today; it held promise and meaning. There was opportunity all around. 

Keith adjusted Lance’s jacket around him. Dressed in Lance’s trademark outfit of a green jacket, blue shirt, and jeans, he felt oddly conspicuous. 

“Look! It’s Lance!” He heard a young voice shriek. 

Keith turned to see a young boy racing towards him. He looked about seven, and like a miniature copy of Lance. His hair was messy. He had a spiderman costume on, and held his mask in one hand. 

“Benny! Wait for Maria and I!” Lance cried, his sister in tow. He was in a red cropped jacket, black shirt and pants, with boots on, Keith’s signature look, and much to Keith’s chagrin, Lance had attempted to brush his hair into a mullet. Maria was dressed as a mad scientist. Her curly hair was hairsprayed above her head, and she wore a lab coat.

“Hey Keith,” He said. “My mom wanted me to take them with, sorry.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” said Keith. Strangely enough, it didn’t. Sure, they were kids, but they were more than that to Keith. He’d heard quite a bit about them by now. Lance thought Keith didn’t pay attention when he wove tales of the various escapades he had been in through the years, but really, Keith hung on to every word. Keith never had siblings. Childhood adventures were a bittersweet mystery to him. He was content to be an onlooker, absorbing Lance’s stories. He knew the scar on Benny’s right hand was from when he’d shut his hand in the pantry door trying to steal cookies. He knew Benny wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up. He knew Maria was the smartest in her grade. He knew she tried to trap the tooth fairy when she was seven, and caught her dad instead. It was surreal to look at them, when he’d only seen them through a phone screen. 

“Lance spent so long trying to get your mullet right,” Maria said. “He had me compare him side by side with your picture.

“Picture? I never took any pictures.”

“I’d prefer to call it a diagram,” Lance said quickly, shooting an indignant glance at Maria. 

Benny chimed in. “He spent a really long time in front of the mirror practicing your pout too.”

“You little traitors,” Lance groaned.

“Must be a good impression if you spent so long working on it,” Keith said, grinning. “Let’s see it.”

“No. It’s stupid.”

“Keeeiiiith, let me see,” Keith said, doing his best impression of Lance’s voice, leaning in close to Lance, just like Lance always did to him. 

“Fine,” Lance said. He walked over to a nearby house and leaned against the wall. His face contorted into an exaggerated pout, and he glared across the street. 

“I don’t look like that!”

“Whatever,” Lance said, facing away from Keith. He brushed imaginary bangs into his eyes.

“Oh my god. You can stop with the impression now.” Keith put his hand over his mouth, hiding his smile.

Lance’s grin popped back onto his face. “Perfect, huh?”

“As an actor? You’ll make a lot of money waiting tables.”

Lance, affronted, scoffed. “Well, you don’t make that great of a Lance either.”

“Thank God.”

Looking each other up and down in each other’s outfits, they burst into laughter. “Can we go now?” Benny said. 

“Mama said we have a curfew,” Maria added.

They set off down the street. Lance and Keith’s costumes, being inside jokes, didn’t come across very well. “Who are you two supposed to be?” They said. “Aren’t you two a little old to be trick or treating?” 

Lance beamed, telling them, “You’re never too old to trick or treat.”

Keith felt like telling Lance that senior year of high school was indeed a little old to trick or treat, but he decided to let Lance have his fun.

A couple blocks later, they ran into Hunk and Pidge. Hunk, dressed as Pidge as he promised, strained Pidge’s green t-shirt at the seam, but as promised, he fit. He even had a messy wig on. Pidge, on the other hand, was swimming in Hunk’s clothes. “All this yellow,” Pidge complained. “I feel like a hippie.”

Their groups fell into a single unit. 

Keith asked, “How long have you guys been doing this?” 

Hunk answered, “Trick or treating? Since the second grade.”

“Really? God, we’ve been friends for so long,” Pidge said.

Eventually, they began talking about the past, the way things were, unintentionally leaving Keith out. At first, Keith strained to catch what they were talking about. Then he gave up, choosing to walk ahead with Benny and Maria. He wasn’t mad. He understood that sometimes, old friends could be like that. 

Benny and Maria only spoke to each other, having a well established sibling dynamic. . Keith felt awkward, old, an outsider. He struggled to think of something to talk about.

“Do you want to be a scientist when you grow up?” He asked Maria. “Because I love your costume.” 

“Yes!” Maria said, launching into a thorough explanation of her future career. “People say you can either be a girl scientist or pretty, but I don’t believe them, so I’m gonna do both. I’m gonna be so cool. I like animals, so I’m gonna go into anatomy. And then Lance is gonna help me make a huge science business, and I’m gonna be the CEO. From there, the government is mine.”

Jesus. Maria, at age eleven, knew more about her career than Keith did. Which was terrifying.

“That went from animals to revolution real quick.”

“Anatomy is a powerful subject.”

“You’ll have to dissect animals, you know,” Keith said.

Maria straightened up. “Yeah! I’m not a pansy!”

“Oh yeah? I am!” Benny exclaimed, cutting into the conversation.

“You don’t even know what pansy means, stupid,” Maria shot back.

“I do!”

“It means you’re a baby!”

“Mama calls me her baby all the time!”

“This is a different kind.”

The kids bickered with each other as they went from house to house. Keith was surprised to find that he liked them. He didn’t mind the bickering either. His No Kids rule could bend for Lance and his siblings, he supposed.

After a while, Keith was carrying his, Benny’s, and Maria’s candy bags, as they had become too heavy. They were even a little heavy for Keith- those kids brought in the candy. Hunk and Pidge, also carrying hefty loads, opted to go home and drop them off. “Meet you at the diner,” Pidge said, waving as she walked away.

“Need a hand?” Lance said, walking up to Keith. 

“I’m good.”

“Do you like them? Benny and Maria?”

“Yeah, they’re great,” Keith said.

“Keith is the best,” Maria said. “I told him my plan for world domination. He approves.”

“Don’t enable her! Anyways, you two have to go home.”

“Already? No! I wanna hang out too!”

“It’s past your bedtime already. Mom would kill me if I let you. Come on.” Lance turned to Keith. “You can just go meet Hunk and Pidge at the diner.”

Keith had no idea where this “diner” was that they constantly talked about. He didn’t intend to wander around lost in the middle of the night. “Can I just come with you?”

“Really? You want to?” Lance beamed.

“Yeah, why not,” Keith said.

“I’ll warn you right now, my mom sees you, she asks questions. It’s how she is.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You will.”

——

Lance’s house was small, but it looked cozy, lived in. It was the kind of place where Keith could picture Lance and his many siblings growing up.

Lance opened the door, and Benny and Maria raced inside, each jockeying for “who would get the shower first.”

“Okay mom, as promised, Benny and Maria are home,” Lance called. “Can I go to the diner?”

She emerged. Lance’s mom looked remarkably like him, except with curly hair, and warm brown eyes. “Not until you tell me who your friend is here.”

“Keith,” Keith said.

“Nice to meet you, Keith.”

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

“I’m assuming you’re dressed as each other,” she said to Keith. “Since you’re in my son’s jacket.”

“You’d be correct.”

“Okay, okay,” Lance said, setting his candy down. “We gotta go now, mom.”

“Well excuse me for wondering who my son’s going off with,” she retorted. “Have a good night, Keith.”

Keith waved back at her. She closed the door. 

“I like your mom.”

“Everyone does.”

“You’re kinda short with her, don’t you think?”

“Wouldn’t you know about being short with people,” Lance teased. “I just don’t like when she pries. I love my mom.”

“I see.”

“Don’t make me feel like a bad kid!” Lance said, looking abashed.

“I’m not, I just don’t know how this stuff works.”

“Oh.” Lance paused, unsure of what to say. “Well, there’s a standing invitation to come to a family party.”

“I said no more parties!”

——

Lance and Keith walked into the old, hole-in-the-wall diner, to find Pidge and Hunk sitting at a booth, waiting for them.

Pidge was constructing a tower out of jelly containers and salt shakers. She noticed Keith’s eyes on her. “I’m testing structures,” She explained.

Hunk, in a heated discussion with Lance, put his elbow on the table, and the tower fell. “I’m sorry!” Hunk said.

“It’s fine,” Pidge said. “If it fell so easily, then it wasn’t that great of a tower anyways,” She examined the remainder of the base. “Maybe if I try tesselated triangles… Thanks Hunk.”

“No problem.”

Lance whispered in Hunk’s ear, making them both laugh. They got up from the table. “Pidge, Keith, watch this.” Lance said. 

Lance lifted Hunk, just for a second, his muscles straining, and quickly collapsed under the weight. “How’s that for a structure?” He giggled. The waitresses nearby looked mildly disgruntled, but happy nothing was broken.

“A complete failure.” Pidge snickered.

“Why would you even- what are you guys…” Keith began to laugh. Lance and Hunk joined in, and even Pidge, although lightly, to preserve what little was left of her tower.

Looking at Hunk, Lance, and Pidge under the pink lights of the diner, feeling himself laugh so hard his sides hurt, Keith knew. This friendship was worth it.


	4. Oreo Milkshake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance are closer than ever before, but they still don’t fully understand each other.

11/3  
I fucking hate people. 

Lotor’s in my science class now. He’s my “lab partner” since I didn’t have one. He keeps trying to talk to me, or be my friend or something. There’s no fucking way that’s gonna happen. He has the rest of the class wrapped around his pinky, and yet I’m the one he bothers. Typical.

Great. Here he comes.  
-Keith.

The lab reeked of antiseptic and metal. Fluorescent lights bounced off the tiled floor. It made his head hurt, a feeling not unfamiliar to Keith, especially as he watched Lotor walk up to him.

“What are you writing about?” Lotor whispered, slinking into his seat behind Keith.

Keith replied, dully, “Homework.”

“What class?”

“English.”

“You’re reading 1984 too, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s okay.”

“You aren’t giving me much to work with, are you?” Lotor said, leaning in close.

Keith didn’t respond. The teacher walked in, calling for everyone to get in their seats.

Lotor stayed where he was, his face level with Keith’s neck. A chill went up Keith’s spine. He sensed Lotor’s smug smile behind him, prickling his skin. Was Lotor trying to mess with him? Why? Keith hated when random people did that, just messed with you, as if your discomfort was a joke. Lotor was definitely the kind of person who drew pleasure from torturing others.

The teacher, in the process of settling the boisterous room down, glanced at them, troubled, and moved on with the lesson, shaken by the look Lotor returned to him. The rest of the class was similarly silent, eyes brushing over the two of them before flitting away, as if Lotor’s actions were a normal fixture in the classroom, like a desk or textbook. Lotor was the one in charge here.

Lotor inhaled. His breath whistled on Keith’s neck, making the hair there stand straight up. For the remainder of the class period, Lotor lurked there behind Keith. Every rise and fall of Lotor’s breath on his neck felt like the Devil himself was looming behind him. A comparison that was rather fitting, given Lotor’s reputation.

Keith wondered if he’d fallen into hell.

The bell rang like a church bell, freeing Keith from this prison. He sprang out of his seat and knelt to pick up his books.

A shadow fell on Keith. Leaning above Keith was Lotor, arms folded, staring Keith in the eye, a satisfied smirk on his face. “I like your cologne,” he said. 

Holding back vomit, Keith stalked out of the classroom. “See you later,” Lotor called after him.

——

That afternoon was sleepy and golden. Allura almost nodded off a few times, eventually retreating to the back for a fifteen minute nap. Keith pored over a classic, Portrait of Dorian Grey. The library was still. In moments like these, when everything was calm, Keith sensed a sort of equilibrium. Everything, exactly where it was, was perfect. There were books, sitting on the shelves, bursting with stories to be read. There were children poring over chapter books, lounging on the beanbags in the Children’s Section. There were Hunk and Pidge, on either end of their usual table, whittling away at their homework. And there was Lance, sitting feet away from Keith, scrolling on his phone, a listless expression on his face. 

And, just like that, right when Keith laid eyes on him, Lance turned as if called. His expression shifted to playful. His eyes shone, and he opened his mouth with a sense of importance. Keith waited for the disturbance of the equilibrium with bated breath. 

“Keith, ever heard of vine?” 

Not quite what Keith expected. Although it was typical of Lance to bring things like this up out of the blue. “Ever heard of me having a job? That I need to be doing?” Keith snarked, returning his gaze to his book.

“As far as I can see, you’re sitting on your ass reading,” Lance pointed out, discomfited at losing Keith’s attention. “Now answer the question.”

Keith sighed, feeling exposed, and closed his book. “Yes Lance, I’ve heard of Vine. I don’t watch them.”

“Keith! You’re missing out on the cornerstone of modern culture!” Lance was horrified. 

Pidge, watching their interaction, shook her head. “This is unacceptable.”

“This calls for a vine compilation,” Hunk said. 

Keith grumbled. “Guys. Don’t tag team me with memes.”

Lance looked victorious. “Or, you could say… tag meme!” His smile shone like a sunbeam. He looked around for approval.

“Good one, Lance!” Hunk high fived Lance. Pidge, rolling her eyes, offered an exasperated grin.

“Let us tag meme you!” Lance said.

Keith couldn’t resist. Lance’s smile was infectious. “Goddammit, fine. I’ll watch one. But Allura will kill me if I don’t get all these books shelved.”

“You were reading on the job five minutes ago,” Lance pointed out.

“Shut up,” Keith said, crossing over to stand behind Lance.

Lance clicked play.

Lance, bless his heart, was one of those people who liked to check for reactions the entire time you watch a video. And Keith, bless his heart, was not a very facially reactive person. 

It was hard enough for Lance that Keith was right there, leaning over his shoulder, closer to him than he’d been since he helped Lance with trig. He smelled sweet. Keith’s hair brushed his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth behind. 

“Gross! Get your mullet off me!” Lance said, slapping at his cheek. 

“Jesus, sorry,” Keith said, shifting further behind Lance. 

Lance cursed himself for making Keith move, but continued watching the video, chortling at his favorite Vines. Then, it finished, after what felt like an hour being acutely aware of Keith’s presence behind him.

“Which was your favorite?” Lance said, looking at Keith, his eyes wide, like a puppy waiting for a treat.

Keith thought for a moment. “The one with the potato,” He said.

“Oh my god,” Lance said, “I can’t believe you have a favorite vine now. What kind of alternate universe is this?”

“Jesus, Lance, if I have to watch a fifteen minute video, I’m bound to like something in there.”

They smiled at each other.

Allura emerged from her nap, stretching. Her blurry eyes fell on Keith and Lance. “Keith? What are you doing? These books won’t shelve themselves.”

“Sorry, Allura!” Keith rushed over to the book cart and wheeled it into an aisle, dropping books in his haste.

“It’s no problem,” she said, pleased to see Keith being more of a teenager. 

Lance examined the two of them, and went back to scrolling on his phone, his face stiff.

\----

It was a solemn day in mid November. The trees were bare. The only sound outside was the whistling of the wind down the street and the diminishing echoes of the kids walking home. Their shadows stretched down the sidewalk like a long farewell, unwilling to let go of where they’d been before. 

Lance was waiting for Keith, as usual, that afternoon. Propping his body against the gate, he grinned at Keith. “Took you long enough.”

Keith fell by his side. “I don’t want to go home,” He said to Lance.

“Me neither,” Lance said, “We don’t have to.”

And that’s how they ended up in their tree. The animals were all gone by this time of year. It was overcast that day, the light dimmer, almost grey. The sky was a mirror with a scratched surface, and Keith couldn’t see his reflection. It was a flat barrier above him and Lance, a ceiling.

Keith had a seasonal cycle. Call it seasonal depression, call it the winter blues, call it sickness. Like clockwork, he caught melancholy around winter time. It was cold. It was blank. Everything felt more lonely. This winter wasn’t the same.

Lance stared into space, his gaze focused on everywhere and nowhere. His eyes were, like the sky, hard to read. They were clear, like tears. His face was placid, the surface of a still lake. The surface was broken by the ring of Keith’s phone.

Lance turned, his face irritated. “I swear to God,” Lance said, “If that’s Allura-“

It was Allura.

“Shiro-“ she said.

“Actually, this is Keith.”

“Oh,” She paused, rifling through papers. “Yes it is. Wrong number. Sorry! If you see Shiro tell him I need to talk to him!”

“No problem,” said Keith. Lance’s face was set. 

“Isn’t it a little weird your boss calls you?” Lance murmured, a sharpness to his tone.

“First of all, no it isn’t, second of all, she’s not my boss, we’re coworkers.”

“What’s that, Keith?” Allura asked.

“Nothing, sorry for bothering you. Bye.” Keith hung up. “What did Allura do? I thought you had a thing for her.”

Lance folded his thin arms, looking defensive. “I don’t.”

“You did in August.”

“Well, I don’t anymore.”

“Did she reject you?”

“No!” Lance pouted. Keith looked at him, not buying it. He clarified, “I mean, she has before, but I didn’t ask her out now.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know, I still feel like you like her.” Lance said, distrustful.

“I told you, I don’t like girls!”

“That’s a weird way to put it!”

Keith’s thoughts were a jumbled mess. Lance clearly couldn’t connect the dots here.There was no dancing around the subject. Although his sexuality was one of the last things he wanted to bring up around Lance, he had to tell him he was gay. 

“Are you gay?” Lance asked. Well, that was convenient timing.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Lance said. “Cool.”

“Smooth response.”

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know!” Keith wrung his hands. “You could call me gross, you could make fun of me, you could use a weird pickup line, you could-“

“Why would I call you gross? I’m bi. Wouldn’t that be a little hypocritical?”

“People in the can be real dicks sometimes,” Keith said. “You never know.”

“You trust me more than that,” Lance said. “And I’ll have you know I haven’t used a pickup line yet because I’m thinking of a really good one.”

“Spare me.”

“Just you wait,” Lance said, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Anyways, welcome to the gay club! You’ll receive your card in the mail in two business days.”

“Lance, I’ve been gay this whole time. I just don’t talk about it.”

“So you’re out?”

“I- yeah. Technically no one knows.”

“...So you aren’t out.”

“It’s not that black and white, Lance. I choose when to talk about it. Most of the time I choose not to talk at all, so why would I talk about this?”

Lance was amused. “Fair point. I still think we should make a gay club.”

“Who would be in it?”

“Just us. Hunk is straight, and I think Pidge has opted entirely out of the whole relationship thing. That’s about it on the list of possible-gay-people-I-know.” Lance tapped his face, deep in thought.

“Welcome to Gay Town: population, Keith and Lance.” Keith leaned against the tree trunk, welcoming its rough texture like an embrace. It felt freeing to have told Lance this. Whether or not it was a secret, it sure had felt like one.

“Lotor’s bisexual, now that I think about it.” Lance’s chin sat in his hand. He spoke, his words muffled. “But fuckfaces like that aren’t allowed.”

Keith lost it.

“Careful, you’ll fall,” Lance said, looking worried at the tree branch, which shook with Keith’s laughter. “Then I’d have NO CHOICE but to ask if you fell from Heaven.”

“THAT’S the pick up line you use?”

“Anything for you, darling,” Lance said, batting his eyelashes.

“Perish.”

“KEITH!” Lance howled. “I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU KNEW THAT MEME!”

“Just because I don’t watch vines doesn’t mean I live under a rock.”

“Arguable.”

Lance turned, still quivering in laughter, and the light caught and held him there.

Keith wasn’t the cheesy type. He despised romance novels. Anything that spent too long dwelling on any relationships (friends, lovers) between people, wasn’t his forte. He’d never watched The Notebook, Titanic, or Forrest Gump. But this moment felt significant.

Lance was beautiful. Keith never thought about it before, because Lance was so preoccupied being Lance that Keith didn’t have a break to think of anyone else. His mind had no time to wander. Keith didn’t like where his mind was wandering. It was this kind of… wandering, wondering (Keith felt there was no difference) that made Alice fall down the rabbit hole.

He caught himself wanting to touch Lance, to cup his cheek with a tender hand and see if it was really as soft as it looked. The thin layer of peach fuzz on Lance’s face was silvered with light. Was it possible to be frozen in sunlight?

He was being ridiculous. Just because Lance was bi didn’t mean he was the first guy Keith had to jump on. Keith pushed those thoughts away. There was no chance in hell that he’d fall down this particular rabbit hole. Lance was no wonderland.

“Whatcha looking at?” Lance said, grinning like a madman. “My beautiful face?”

The moment was gone.

Keith said, “Nah, I was just thinking about how you don’t have any facial hair.”

“Wha- Neither do you!” Lance said, stunned at the audacity of the insult. 

Keith rubbed his jaw, bringing the stubble there into emphasis. “I shave.”

Lance’s cheeks bloomed a vivid crimson, comparable to a ripe cherry.

“Do you?” Keith asked.

“Shut up!”

The more and more time they spent together, the more comfortable they were in silence. Neither of them talked. They sat, arm to arm, looking at the forest around them.

“Keith.”

“What?”

“I feel gay when I’m around you,” Lance said, winking at Keith.

“...What?”

“Get it? Gay means happy? And we’re both gay?”

“That one was weak,” Keith scoffed, shaking his head.

“I spent a lot of time planning that one!”

Lance had meant it, a little bit. 

——

It was an average Wednesday. Keith was heading to gym.

Opening his gym locker, Keith began to peel his pants off. He felt someone stand behind him. “Need something?” He said, turning.

He was face to face with Lotor. 

“Hey, Keith.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I got transferred to your gym class. Isn’t that great? My locker’s right next to yours.”

“Then why don’t you start changing?” Keith realized he was standing in the middle of the locker room with his pants around his ankles, and scrambled to take off his pants.

“So cold!” Lotor said, feigning hurt.

Keith, with nothing left to say, took off his shirt, praying that Lotor would go away. 

“Oh well,” Lotor said, looking Keith up in down with an almost violent, animalistic look in his eyes, “Worth it.”

Without another word, Keith grabbed his gym clothes and went to change in the bathroom.

——

11/15  
After my shift is done, Lance, Hunk, Pidge and I are gonna go chill at the diner. Pretty great.

You never realize how great things can feel from the outside. If you’d have told me I’d be hanging out with people, I would have called you a liar. 

I thought about Lance last night. We’ve never been more comfortable together. We’ve come out to each other, I’ve had a breakdown in front of him, he’s cried in front of me. I still feel like there’s a distance between us.

I know it’s partly me. That’s the way I am. Distant. But I can feel it coming from Lance too, and that’s really surprising for someone like him. I don’t want to bother him about it. 

I’ll wait for him to bring it up.  
-Keith.

Keith leaned on the counter, unleashing a violent yawn. “You’ve been in a good mood lately,” Shiro said, sitting next to him. “But I can see you still don’t get enough sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Keith said. “Besides, Lance was sending me memes ‘til 3 a.m.”

“When I said do something with your time, I didn’t mean that,” Shiro said, smiling.

“I like his memes,” Keith said. “Speaking of that… Lance, get over here!”

“What?” Lance called from where he was, knee deep in a pile of comics.

“I wanna show you a meme I found,” Keith said, chuckling to himself.

“Nope, not dealing with this,” Shiro said, walking away.

“I’ll see YOU later,” Lance said to his comics, and practically sprinted over to Keith’s side. Keith, proud, showed Lance his phone, looking at Lance’s face for his reaction. Lance’s face fell. He was disappointed by what he saw. “It’s… a red square.”

Keith clutched his stomach. “God, it’s so fucking funny.”

“It’s literally just a red square.”

“I’ve got another one!” Keith switched to another image.

“H? It just says H. Am I missing something?”

Keith snickered to himself. 

“...” Try as hard as he might, Lance didn’t get the joke.

“Well, I think it’s funny.”

“You have the weirdest taste in memes.”

“I’m ahead of my time.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the increasing clamor of Pidge and Hunk, who, hunched over a blueprint, whispered quick, urgent words to each other. They grasped models of car parts, which clattered against one another, and pointed to various mechanisms within.

“What are you guys doing over there?” Keith asked, raising his eyebrow.

“That?” Lance asked. “Uh… it’s a car project. Kinda top secret, sorry.”

Keith leaned an elbow on the counter. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be all secretive now. Who do you think you are, me?”

“You’ll find out eventually.” Lance changed the subject. “Anyways, what are you doing over the break?”

“I was planning to sit at home and watch T.V.”

“What about on Thanksgiving?”

“Same thing. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a nice turkey microwave dinner,” Keith said.

“Maybe you could spend it with us.”

“With your family?”

“Yeah! My mom’s been begging for you to come over anyways. And Benny and Maria love you. You could meet all my relatives. And you, me, and my mom can cook together! It’d be great.”

Keith’s eyes stung imagining it. Lance and his family, warm and knit, gathered around a table. He wouldn’t be part of the family dynamic. Him, gloomy, boring, and alone, standing in stark contrast to Lance and his outgoing, friendly family. No matter how welcomed he was, he’d be the outsider.

“Look, Lance, I really appreciate it.” Lance’s brows were knitted in concern. “I do! It’s just that Thanksgiving’s kinda my binge watching, emo, alone time thing.”

“Okay. I get it.” Lance went back to his table.

“Lance.”

“Huh?”

“Am I welcome at Christmas?”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree.

——

The morning had been long and hard, but Keith was free. Only for thirty minutes, but he was free nonetheless. The lunch bell rang. Tension leaving his shoulders, Keith ran out of the classroom, no longer caring who’d see him. 

“Wait!” A voice cried behind him. “Keith, can I talk to you?”

Lotor. All the tension Keith left behind returned in full force. “Sure,” He said.

“I was wondering… do you want to meet up sometime, outside of school? I figured, since we had that lab to work on…”

“I finished it.”

“Oh, well, there’s 1984 to read too…”

“I finished that too.”

“Well, aren’t you a step ahead?” Lotor’s eye twitched. He regained his composure.“We could just go get a coffee.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I suppose.. I’m asking you on a date,” Lotor said, not meeting Keith’s eyes. 

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m busy.”

“All the time?”

“Unlike you, I have a job. I don’t have a rich dad to support me.”

Lotor ignored the jab. “You hang out with Lance plenty.”

“That’s because it’s Lance.”

“What does Lance have that I don’t?”

“Just stop it.”

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.” A tear tracked down Lotor’s cheek. “I thought you and I understood each other. We’re both alone. No one else gets us.”

“Don’t make assumptions about me. You don’t understand me at all.” Keith walked away. Perhaps he had been harsh, but Lotor’s demeanor, everything he said, even his tears, were calculated. 

He heeded Lance’s words. Insulting Lance and telling Keith he was alone was the final straw. He had Lance. He wasn’t alone.

Lotor wiped away the tear, watching Keith’s retreating back. He wasn’t as easy to persuade as some people were. There had to be some way to Keith’s- heart would definitely be the wrong word, it wasn’t Keith’s heart that Lotor wanted- some way to Keith. A weakness. Everyone had a weakness, that for better or worse, could be exploited.

 

——

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Keith. I lost my phone. Could we meet at the library so we can go look for it?  
Lance: Sure! See you after school! :D

\----

Lance stood in an aisle, perusing the titles. The familiar raven mullet was nowhere to be found. He must’ve beaten Keith there. It felt nice for him to win over Keith.

Lance pulled a book off the shelf, intending to peruse the cover. 

“Lance, isn’t it?” A cold voice came from the newly empty slot where the book had been.

Lance dropped the book. “What the- who is that?” Lance said.

“It’s Lotor, you numbskull.” The voice snapped. “You gave me a deal on that car, so I’ll go easy on you. Let me tell you this: if you spend any more time with Keith, I will make your life miserable.”

“Why do you care who I’m friends with?” Lance saw Lotor’s figure through the gaps in the books. It was bold, tense, angry. 

“Keith is worth something. You aren’t. You really think all that time you spend with him isn’t gonna hold him back? He needs someone who won’t drag him down.” 

Lance trembled. His fist closed around the rim of the bookshelf. “Keith and I are none of your business.”

“He’s my business now. Stay away from him, you worthless pile of shit,” Lotor growled. Lance flinched.

Lance picked up his book and returned it to the shelf, right where it belonged. Though his body was calm (with the exception of his knuckles, as they got whiter each second he clenched the bookshelf), he felt anger brewing in his stomach. “What do you want with him?”

“What do you think?” Jesus Christ, Lotor was going to take Keith and ruin him, chew him up and spit him out. Lance heard enough stories about what Lotor did to people. A notorious playboy. And if people weren’t receptive to his flirting, tough shit. Lotor always got what he wanted. It was horrifying enough knowing the truth, knowing that Lotor’s doings were enabled by his status. Imagining it happening to Keith made it even worse. 

Lotor pushed past Lance’s stunned silence. “What I want with Keith isn’t your business.”

“Don’t even think about touching him,” Lance spat, his voice filled with venom.

“Who said I’d do that? And even if I did, what could you do about it? Run along and play with your little cars,” Lotor said. Then, Lance heard a vicious intake of breath. “Wait… you can’t even handle that. You’re just leeching off of your friends.”

“Shut up!” Lance raged. Lotor was an asshole, he knew that, but some of the things he said were hitting too close to home. 

Some of the things he said were things Lance thought about himself.

Lotor pressed on, ignoring Lance. “I easily surpass you. Keith will see that soon enough.”

Tears pooled in Lance’s eyes. It was true, he knew it. It was all true. He felt himself becoming more and more removed from where he stood. His vision narrowed to a funnel. His throat closed to a thin pinhole. “Shut up,” Lance wheezed. He ran down the aisle, past a speechless Allura, and out the door. He ran to his small, pathetic, run down home, which fit him perfectly. He ran past his mom and her confusion, and closed his room door. He stopped moving, but his problems were after him still.

——

Lance was calling Keith. In the middle of a shift.   
“What?” Keith whispered, his voice edged with irritation.

“Keith?”

Lance’s mom?

“I don’t mean to be rude, but where is Lance? Why are you calling me?”

“Something happened to Lance, I don’t know what. He holed up in his room and won’t answer me. He left his phone downstairs, and your contact was in there, and I know you guys are good friends, so… do you know what’s going on?”

“He… what? I don’t know what’s going on, no.”

“I called Hunk and Pidge over and they asked him to come out, but he won’t talk to them either. I don’t want to bother him, but I’m worried something is seriously wrong. I’m sorry if I’m putting any pressure on you, but you’re my last hope short of breaking down his door.” 

“You have no idea what could have happened?”

“None! He was fine when he left home this morning.”

This didn’t add up. Lance was open about his emotions, unguarded. He was a total sap. He felt safe with his family. He wore his heart on his sleeve. The wall was between him and Keith. At least, that’s what Keith thought.

Maybe Keith was right about the wall between them. He didn’t know Lance as well as he thought he did.

“I know this is odd, but if you call to Lance from his window, he might let you in. There’s a better chance he would than if you were in front of his door.” Lance’s mother knew he was a total romantic. The closer it got to the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, the better. Lance was never one to resist such drama.

“...okay.”

“Lance doesn’t like when people are left outside. So it’s more likely that he’d let you in.”

“Got it. I’ll show up at midnight then. It’ll be cold.”

“Good idea. Thank you so much, Keith. I know this is weird.”

“Of course.” He hung up.

What in the hell was going on?

——

Keith knew many facts about Lance. He knew Lance liked Oreo milkshakes. So he bought one. That was something concrete Keith could offer Lance. He wouldn’t feel like a COMPLETE failure of a friend when talk would inevitably turn to emotions, and he’d feel the river of words in his brain dry into a bed of helplessness.

He knew Lance was from Cuba. He knew Lance was obsessed with Vine. He knew The Empire Strikes Back was Lance’s favorite movie. He knew Lance wore the same pair of ratty sneakers every day, despite protestations from his mother, because they were a lucky charm. He knew Lance got up at seven and went to church on Sunday because it made his dad happy.

He knew Lance was the most fiercely loyal guy out there, until it came to himself.

He knew Lance held secrets behind those ocean blue eyes. He knew when the sun shone through the leaves onto Lance’s face, it looked like a lattice of gold. 

He knew that however strong Lance appeared, it was a facade to hide what laid beneath. He knew, because he was the same way.

Keith stood in Lance’s backyard, feeling the dew through his sneakers. It was laughable how much he looked like a criminal. Yeah, Lance’s mom told him to do this, but it felt pretty illicit, as he’d snuck through several backyards and climbed two fences to get here. 

Keith threw a ball at Lance’s window, putting the least amount of force behind the ball as possible, praying he didn’t break it. The window shuddered on impact. It creaked open, and Lance poked his head out.

“What the hell, dude?”

“Lance!” Keith whispered, urgent, glad to see Lance’s face. 

“I’m not in the mood to hang out,” Lance said. Keith could tell his eyes were red, even in the dark, even as Lance was a whole story above him. “Please just go home.”

“I can’t. Not when you’re like this.”

Lance spoke, putting harsh emphasis on every word. “Why are you here?” Keith wasn’t hurt by his tone. It was being used to mask the hurt which so evidently laid underneath.

Funny how it took a crisis to open Keith’s eyes.

“I brought you a milkshake,” Keith said, holding it out as an offering.

“Why are you here?” Lance repeated, softer than before.

“I’ll tell you if you let me come up.”

Lance considered his offer. “...fine. But just so you know, I’m doing it for the milkshake.”

“I know.” There was a glimmer of the Lance who Keith knew.

“Don’t fall and die,” Lance said.

“Not planning on it.”

Keith scaled the side of Lance’s house, thankful for the lattice, knotted with ivy, that allowed him to keep hold. He rolled through the window and landed in Lance’s room. “Shoes off!” Lance said. “I don’t need mud in here.” 

“You’re such a diva,” Keith complained, untying his shoes.

“Call me a diva all you want, this is a carpeted floor. Don’t make me throw you out the window.”

Keith’s gaze roamed Lance’s room. Posters and framed art decorated his walls, but it wasn’t chaotic. It was organized. It must have taken hours for Lance to plan it, talking to himself about the best place for each individual item. Every piece fit in with all the others, making sense with the scheme of the room. Potted plants lined Lance’s windowsill. It was a wonder Keith didn’t knock them down when he came in. 

It was happy. It was gorgeous. And it screamed Lance.

“I like it,” Keith said. “Way better than my room.” His hand was sticky. He raised it to see that Lance’s milkshake had leaked. Licking it off, he turned to Lance and extended the drink. “Here.”

Lance took it. He fixated on Keith as Keith continued to lick his fingers. “Who knew a milkshake really would bring a boy to my yard?”

“I can’t even be annoyed at you for saying that,” Keith sighed. “I thought of that when I was buying it.”

“I must be rubbing off on you.”

“Please, anything but that!”

Lance took a long sip and set the milkshake down. “So, you haven’t told me yet. Why are you here?”

“Why do you think? I was worried about you. You snap and I get a call from your mom that you’ve shut yourself away? Not very normal.”

“Since when did you need to be worried about me?”

“We’re friends! It’s my job to be worried about you!”

“Are we?”

Keith was stunned into silence. He didn’t realize that Lance mistrusted him this much. “I thought we were. I must have had the wrong idea. I can go.” He got up.

Lance grabbed his arm. “Keith, that’s not what I- you just don’t get it.”

“Then talk to me! Tell me what I’m not getting! You can’t just run away from it all without a single word and expect me to be fine with it!”

“If I tell you how I feel I’ll ruin everything.”

“Stop it! That’s the whole reason I came here.”

“You really wanna know?” Lance asked. He said, “We aren’t friends. You’re just putting up with me.”

“After everything, how could we not be friends?”

“I’m not good enough for you,” Lance said. The words hovered in the air for a moment, stark, harsh.

“What?”

“You’re better than me at everything. You’re smart. You’re hot. You’re a good fucking person, even if you don’t want to admit that. I’m basically a pile of shit in comparison.” Keith wanted to hold Lance. Lance needed to be held. He sat there, glassy, broken, a statue blown over in the wind, a butterfly whose wings had been touched. A tear fell from his eye. “He was right. I’m worthless.”

“You’re not!”

“I am! You don’t know what it’s like to be pathetic and invisible. Everyone loves you. I can see why. You can do everything. I can’t even do my trig homework without help.”

“None of that’s true, Lance.”

“And you know what really sucks? It doesn’t just affect me. It drags down you, Hunk, Pidge, Benny, Maria, my mother.” Lance’s breath hitched. “You wanna know why I’m such a fucking clown all the time? If I’m the most interesting one in the room, people won’t have time to realize how much they hate me and how useless I am.”

Keith’s chest ached. “You’re not useless.”

“I am! I am!” Lance’s eyes were filled with tears. 

“You’re not.”

“I am!” Keith folded Lance in a hug. “Let go!”

“No.”

Lance stopped pushing Keith away and held him back. Hot tears spilled on Keith’s shoulder. Lance sobbed, his wounds emerging in his voice. Keith had assumed Lance was happy all the time. He had gotten mere hints of what lay beneath the surface, and now it had been revealed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Keith said, his tone soft. “Remember the party? You were there for me then. I’m here for you now.” He rubbed circles on Lance’s back, hoping that would soothe him.

“I shouldn’t have said we weren’t friends.”

“I know you didn’t mean it,” Keith said.

“You’re better at comforting than I thought you’d be.”

“Thanks.”

“Still a pretty awkward hugger.”

“You want me to stop?”

Lance pulled him tighter. “No! No.” He exhaled. “Keith, if I say something kinda weird, would you be mad at me?”

“If it’s weird enough, probably. You know me.”

“Then I won’t say anything.”

“No! I take it back! Tell me.”

“Keith,” Lance said. “We’ve known each other for almost 3 months. Why are you one of my best friends?”

“In one night, I’ve gone from not being your friend to being your best friend,” Keith grinned. “I have whiplash.

Lance snorted. 

“Now. Which fucker told you you’re worthless?”

“Lotor.”

“When? Why?”

“I think he fucked with me. I got a text from “you,” saying your phone was lost and to go to the library. So I went there and Lotor was waiting for me.”

“What the fuck.”

“He tore my asshole a new one.”

“Why?”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Lance said, sounding worried. “Dude, you need to be careful.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“He asked me out yesterday.”

“What? And you…?”

“Turned him down! Duh!” Keith’s face darkened. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Keith, don’t worry about it.”

“That fucker needs to pay.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble. Just leave it alone. He’ll find someone else to bother.”

“I suppose.”

Neither Keith nor Lance was comfortable with the idea of Lotor moving on to harass others, but what could they do? Lotor had the whole town in his pocket.

“Thanks for coming over,” said Lance.

Lance’s breathing was steady. Keith pulled away. “Your milkshake melted,” he said.

“I like it melted,” Lance said. 

“You monster. We can’t be friends.”

“Have fun with your zero friends then.”

“You got me there.” Keith fell back on Lance’s bed. The sheets smelled like him, salt and citrus. Lance settled in, laying next to Keith.

“I ran out of things to say,” Lance whispered.

“Then we don’t need to say anything.”

They lay on Lance’s bed, pressed together, sinking into the kind of daze that only the early morning could bring on. Keith almost fell asleep there, surrounded by Lance, under a blanket of his heat. Lance was asleep. His arm stretched across Keith’s chest. His nose whistled as he breathed. His mouth was partly open. Lance’s disguises that he wore all day long fell away, and Keith could see him. This moment was fragile, precious, and, sadly, short-lived.

“Lance,” Keith said, shaking Lance’s arm.

“Mm?”

“I have to go home.”

Lance opened his eyes. “You can stay over,” He murmured. “It’s like five in the morning.”

“Three, actually.”

He rolled his eyes. “Same thing.”

“Lance. I should go home. I don’t want to be a bother to your mom.”

“You won’t be.”

Keith moved Lance’s arm, treating it as if it were glass. The truth was, he’d been through enough. He needed a break, just for a few hours, from Lance and his scent and the emotion and how cozy and trapped he felt laying in this bed. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Lance gave up. “Tomorrow.”

Keith clambered out of Lance’s window and disappeared into the night.

Lance laid there. His blankets bore the imprint of Keith’s shape. It was still warm. He snuggled deeper, burrowing into the warmth. 

Lance was a lucky man. He had Keith.


	5. Mistletoe and Missed Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday dawns fresh and bright with new snowfall, and Keith spends Christmas with Lance’s family. While they are distracted by the season, a plot has formed behind their backs.

Dear Diary,

I’m thankful for my mother, my father, my siblings, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith.

Thanksgiving was just alright. The food was good. I get it’s a little ironic that I’m not being thankful for the holiday of Thankfulness, but I really wanted Keith to come. I guess it just isn’t his thing. But now I can shift gears.

Christmas is coming! And Keith is coming over then! I have so much to plan, it’s insane. I want it to be perfect. 

You think he’d get mad at me if I stapled mistletoe to the entryway? I swear, it’s only a joke!

-Lance, 11/23

——-

It was snowing when Keith left school. A flurry of white cascaded down, reinforced by the wind, blowing down the street in elegant swirls.

Lance was, as faithful as ever, waiting for Keith. A thin layer of snow dusted his hair. Keith could see the snowflakes caught in his eyelashes. He held his textbooks. His arms were stippled with goosebumps.

“It’s the first snow!” Lance said, holding his fists in the air and beaming.

“When did it start snowing?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“What happened to your backpack?”

“It broke.”

“And your coat?”

“Didn’t feel like wearing it.”

“Lance,” Keith said, his tone warning.  
Oh  
“You’re not my mom.”

“And what would your mom say?”

“She’s not here right now, so it doesn’t matter.”

Keith shook his head in exasperation, and dropped the subject.

“You working today?” Lance asked.

“No, I’m off.”

“Sweet. You mind coming to the car shop?”

“Nah. Let’s go.”

They turned off their usual route and set off towards downtown. 

They walked past department stores with extravagant holiday displays. Nutcrackers, ballerinas, cakes, mistletoe, wreaths, all passed them by as they set off down the bustling downtown road. There were carolers down the street, giving a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells.” Lance sang along under his breath. There were people clamoring for donations, to send gifts to impoverished children, to feed the homeless on Christmas Day. Keith and Lance stopped and dropped a few dollars into their cans before continuing on. 

People hurried in and out of shops, carrying bags bursting with candy and gifts. This reminded Keith that he hadn’t bought Lance’s present yet, and he resolved to fix the situation.

“It’s freezing,” Lance said, shivering, rubbing his arms.

“It’s twenty degrees.”

“That’s cold!”

“Maybe,” Keith said, “If you actually wore a winter coat you’d be warm.”

“...I can’t argue with that.”

They left a trail of footprints, two pairs of feet traveling along the white. 

“You excited for Christmas at my place?” Lance asked.

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that,” Keith said, trying to sound casual, as if he hadn’t been excited to spend Christmas at Lance’s for the past month.

“You promised you’d come!”

“I am, I just forgot.”

“How could you possibly forget about Christmas?”

“I don’t usually celebrate Christmas.” Now, that was true. Keith didn’t see a point in festivity when he lived with foster families. Usually, he’d shut himself off in a bedroom and listen to the distant sound of the family’s fun.

“Just you wait. The McClain family knows how it’s done.”

“Yeah, about that,” Keith said. “Who do I have to buy presents for?”

“Well, we’re opening presents with my mom, Benny, Maria, and me, but you don’t have to buy anyone anything.”

Keith intended on buying all of them presents. If he was going to impose his presence on the family, he might as well compensate them for it. Plus Maria and Benny could be pretty fun to buy for.

“Keith, you’re going past the shop.”

“Oh.” In his defense, it was getting pretty hard to see with the blanket of snow coming down.

They were greeted with Hunk’s yell upon entry: “Don’t move an inch!”

Keith and Lance froze in the doorway.

Hunk was underneath a car, fiddling with what seemed to be a particularly finicky piece of machinery. The floor was coated with a suspicious, viscous fluid, which didn’t look like the sort of fluid that should be coming out of a car.

Hunk yanked out a tiny metal bit. He held it out in victory. The car gave a small hiss followed by a click, signifying the release of pressure.

He scooted out from under the car. “You guys can move now.”

“Jesus, Hunk, what was that?” Keith said.

“Well, somehow a bolt got wedged into one of the pipes, so the car was building up pressure and vomiting out a bunch of smoke,” Hunk explained, examining the gunk accumulated on his fingers, “Do y’all know how long it took to fish out that tiny bolt? My hands hurt.”

“I’m impressed you were able to reach in there at all,” Lance said.

“My hands may be large, but they wield great precision and delicacy,” Hunk said. He wiggled his fingers as if to demonstrate.

Keith asked, “Okay, if the pressure was the problem, then why is there grease all over the floor?” 

“Well,” Hunk said, a tinge of red to his cheeks, “My delicate, precise hands got a little stuck.” He laughed.

“I can’t blame you, man,” Lance said. He stooped to examine the pipe. “Only Pidge’s hands could fit in this thing.”

“Speaking of that,” Keith said, “Where’s Pidge?” 

“Out.”

“Very specific.” Lance smirked.

“That’s all she told me, man. She just said ‘going out’ and left.”

“Typical.”

Hunk held his arm up, taking in the layer of grease coating his arm. “Why is it every time Keith shows up, I’m coated in fluid?” He complained. “Lance, do NOT say what you’re thinking.”

Lance had an evil grin. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You shouldn’t have used so much grease,” Keith pointed out.

“I WAS STRESSED OUT, OKAY? YOU TRY GETTING YOUR HAND STUCK IN A PIPE!”

“Sorry, geez.”

“I didn’t know when Pidge was coming back,” Hunk sighed. “So I went a little overboard. Isn’t it your day off today?” Hunk said to Lance.

“Nah, I have some paperwork.” 

“Then why is Keith here?”

“He’s smart. He’s helping me.”

“Sure. I’m gonna go shower,” said Hunk, “Again.” Grease trickled off him as he left.

Lance led Keith into his office and closed the door. In a swift movement, he grabbed a piece of paper from atop his desk and held it up to Keith. “Read this.”

“I warned you once. I won’t warn you again,” it said. “Consider this business out of your hands. -Lotor.”

“What the fuck?”

“I didn’t want to tell you out loud,” Lance said, his voice low. “He’s probably watching us.”

“How would he be doing that?”

“He’s got a lot of buddies that can keep an eye out for us. And I’ll bet you anything he hangs around after school to see where you go.”

Spiders of fear crawled up Keith’s skin, but he resisted panic. “Even if he does watch us, what can he do? It’s empty threats.”

“I don’t know, man. He’s got connections. His daddy Zarkon backs him on everything.” Lance slumped into his desk chair. 

Keith put a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him. “It’ll be okay, Lance. I doubt he’ll do anything. And if he tries it, we’ll fuck him up.”

“If you say so,” Lance said, patting Keith’s hand, his eyes still troubled.

Keith wished there was a tangible way he could comfort Lance. Sometimes he wasn’t enough.

—— 

New group chat::: Christmas??  
Hunk and Pidge have been added to the chat.

Keith: I have a dilemma  
Keith: what the fuck does Lance want for Christmas  
Keith: the boy has EVERYTHING  
Keith: his room is stuffed, I don’t know what else I could add  
Pidge: your love  
Pidge: lol  
Keith: SERIOUSLY DUDE  
Keith: I’m PANICKING  
Pidge: honestly you could buy him anything and he’d like it  
Hunk: well, he likes Harry Potter, Star Wars, music  
Keith: thanks Hunk  
Hunk: oh I’m not done  
Hunk: he loves milk chocolate, sweaters, astrology stuff, the Avengers, shoes, plants  
Hunk: he’s OBSESSED with Troye Sivan  
Pidge: Try a Starbucks gift card  
Pidge: the boy is BASIC  
Pidge: so what are you getting for us?  
Keith: oh  
Keith: uh  
Keith: you guys want stuff too?  
Pidge: Nah I’m just messing with you  
Pidge: we don’t need to do presents  
Hunk: I was gonna bake cookies again :(  
Hunk: should I skip that this year?  
Pidge: NO!!!  
Pidge: okay keith we’re doing presents this year  
Keith: great  
Keith: thanks  
Hunk: no problem :D

Keith settled on a thick Gryffindor scarf (thanks to Hunk’s patient advice when Keith frantically called him in the middle of the fandom section), a Starbucks gift card, and a sturdy winter coat with stars patterned across the front. The coat was a little pricey, but it was worth poking fun at Lance (and getting him to wear a coat). 

A tiny potted flower caught his eye as he headed out. It was a vivid, cobalt blue, with spiky yet delicate petals. It reminded him of Lance: His deep, blue eyes, his playful personality, and ninety percent of his wardrobe.

After he paid, he tucked it within his coat. Keith prayed the elements outside wouldn’t kill it. 

——

Lance: Merry Christmas Eve!!!  
Keith: To you too.  
Lance: you spending it alone  
Keith: yeah  
Keith: let me have some peace til tomorrow  
Lance: yeah yeah  
Lance: whatcha watching  
Keith: …not an anime  
Lance: KEITH  
Lance: PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE WATCHING THE ONE I TOLD YOU TO  
Lance: SCHOOL RUMBLE IS MY FAV PLZ  
Keith: I’m not  
Lance: ok then what are you watching  
Keith:...  
Keith: okay I am  
Lance: yes!!!

Although the two boys were apart, they stayed on their phones well into the night, mostly talking about the show. At some point, Keith passed out on the couch, leaving Lance unanswered.

Lance: keith?  
Lance: hello?  
Lance: Keith???  
Keith: oh fuc I fell asleep  
Keith: I’m going to bed  
Lance: okay!  
Lance: can’t wait until tomorrow <3  
Keith: see you then.

——

Christmas Day. A day meant to be holy, meant to celebrate the people you love. Everyone was inside with their families. It was snowing. 

Keith stood before Lance’s door. The paint was peeling. It was a bright , very un-Christmasy yellow. A tiny gift bow was stuck on the handle. The sound of screams and laughter faintly reached his ears. The family festivities had begun. Keith held up his fist to knock and paused. Was he ready to do this?

Instead of knocking, he pressed the doorbell, telling himself there was no going back.

The door swung open, smacking Keith in the face.

“Hi, Keith!” Benny said.

“Hey,” Keith wheezed, holding his nose.

“Is that Keith?” Lance’s mom said, poking her head out of the kitchen.

“Keith!” Lance bounded out of the kitchen. “Come in!”

Keith left his shoes on the mat inside. It said “welcome.”

“Here’s your apron,” Lance said, tossing cloth to Keith. It read: “Kiss the Cook.”

“What,” Keith said, “Is this?”

“Sorry, that was the only one we had left,” Lance said.

Keith put the apron on. “So what are we making?”

“Cookies, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and stuffing. My dad has a turkey going already, so don’t worry about that.”

“Cool.”

“And we’re making gingerbread houses after that.”

“Cool.”

“You’re fine with everything, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Stop standing around squawking,” Lance’s mom said. “You can talk while you cook.”

“Okay, um-”

“You can call me Julia,” She said.

“I can’t call you Julia,” Lance complained.

“That’s because you’re my son.”

They crossed into Lance’s kitchen. It was cramped, warm, and it smelled like powdered sugar. The cabinets matched the door: a bright, buttery yellow. It felt like summer.

Lance’s mom immediately took charge, dispensing orders. “Keith, you can do the potatoes, Lance, you’re doing the green beans, and I’m in charge of my stuffing,” She pointed at each of them with her spatula, which then fell on the air next to Lance. “Where is Maria? MARIA!”

“I’m doing a puzzle,” Maria groaned from the living room.

“The puzzle can wait! We need cookies!”

“How come Benny doesn’t have to help?”

“He’s too young. He’ll have his turn.”

“Ugh, this is so unfair.” Maria shuffled into the kitchen, still in her pajamas, her eyes bleary. “Hey, Keith.”

“Hey, Maria.”

“Okay! Everybody start!” Said Lance’s mom, clapping her hands. 

The kitchen erupted into activity as they all bustled about, searching for ingredients and spatulas and mixers. Butter became the most highly contested, scarce ration. A cloud of white flew in the air, obscuring their vision, as Maria dove into the flour container.

Keith was in the midst of peeling a pile of potatoes when Julia cut into his concentration.

“I hear you work at the library,” she said.

“Yep.”

“How’s that?”

 

“Good pay. It’s quiet.”

Benny ran in. “Mommy, can we make the gingerbread houses now?”

“I already told you, not yet!”

He left pouting.

“Now where were we?” She said, lifting her pot of stuffing out of the heater. “Oh yeah. The library. I’m sure the only reason Lance went to that library every day was to bother you,” she smiled and shook her head.

“Hey!” Lance objected. “I had homework and stuff.”

 

“You do your homework?” She laughed. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“He does,” Keith said. “Surprisingly.”

She turned to Keith, her voice conspiratorial. “You know, one time in grade school, Lance ate a whole piece of paper that the teacher sent becau-”

“Mom!” Lance howled.

“Okay, okay, I won’t embarrass you.”

“Please do,” Sofia said.

“Well, I have quite a few stories I could tell about YOU,” Lance’s mom said.

“NO!”

The conversation ended as whisks turned on and microwaves beeped. Soon, their dishes were completed. “We’re just waiting on the turkey,” said Lance’s mom. She sat in a chair, groaning as her feet were relieved of duty.

A door creaked open, and Lance’s father strode in. “It’ll be another twenty minutes,” He said. His eyes fell on Keith. “Who’s this.”

 

“It’s Keith, dad. My friend? I’ve mentioned him before.”

“Like a million times,” Sofia interjected.

“Oh. I’m not too good at names.” He reached out and shook Keith’s hand. “Nice to meet you, son.”

Lance snorted. “It took him two years to remember Hunk’s name.”

Benny ran in. “Can we make the gingerbread houses NOW?”

“Yes, Benny, we can.” Julia gave him an exhausted smile.

“YES!”

And thus the mess, which had just been cleaned up after the whirlwind of cooking, reappeared in the form of frosting, graham cracker crumbs, gumdrops, and m&ms.

“Where did all the gumdrop buttons go?” Lance whined, searching the table.

“I think Benny ate them all,” Maria said.

“Did not!” Protested Benny, who in the process of defending himself revealed his tongue, which was covered in red, blue, and green.

“Ah-ha!”

Julia tutted. “That’s enough gingerbread and god knows what else for you. You’ll spoil your dinner.”

Keith watched the exchange in front of him. He feared going in that he would feel left out, but instead a warm feeling of contentment filled his chest. He was here. He was laughing and having fun with a family. He made a gingerbread house. He was here with Lance.

Lance met his eyes. Then they flickered downwards. “Keith! What kind of gingerbread house is that?”

“A practical and cute one.”

“It’s boring!” It was true. Keith iced it all together and placed a single m&m on the window. He was too worn out to do much else. Lance’s, in comparison, was flamboyant. It sported a whole rainbow of candy on its roof, and even had lawn decorations. “Beat that,” Lance said, leaning back in his chair with a look of satisfaction.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll let you have this one.”

The oven beeped. “That’ll be the turkey,” Lance’s dad said, scooping himself off the couch and heading over.

“Say,” Keith said, turning to Lance, “didn’t you say your grandma lives here?”

“Yeah, she’s off in Hawaii for Christmas actually. She met this young guy, and, well,” Lance leaned in close and whispered, “she’s kind of a cougar.”

Julia, with precise hearing that detected when her children were causing trouble, said, “Lance, be careful what you say around Benny.”

“We learned about cougars in elementary school,” Benny said. “I’m not a baby.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Benny, that’s not the kind we mean.”

Julia gave Maria a stern, unforgiving stare. “Not another word about that at this table.” Her face immediately shifted into a smile. “Now, let’s dig in.”

——

Keith groaned, “I’m stuffed.”

“You’re telling me,” Lance said.

They lay face down on Lance’s bed. After dinner had been the gift exchange. Keith gave Benny a toy truck and Maria a “lab scientist kit.” He gave Lance’s mother a package of coffee- with a house like this, she needed it. He gave Lance’s father a simple rosary, and as a religious man, he gave Keith a simple, meaningful smile, before going to put it with his others.

Before running off with their toys, Benny presented Keith with a drawing of Mars done finely in crayon. It was one of the best gifts Keith had ever received.

Keith decided to give Lance his present in private. He didn’t know why, but he felt embarrassed. 

He nudged Lance. “hm?” Lance grumbled.

“Want your present now?”

Lance was up. “Yes!”

Keith handed Lance the gift bag. Lance pulled out the scarf, oohing. He shot Keith a glare at the winter jacket, but smiled upon seeing the stars across the front. He paused from his unwrapping. “I’ll be wearing this every day,” he said. 

“Good, you’ll be warm,” Keith smiled. “Keep going.”

“There’s more?” Lance dug through the bag, laughing upon seeing the Starbucks gift card. Then, he pulled out the potted flower, and clapped one hand over his mouth, using the other to cradle it close. “It’s my baby. Keith. I love it.”

“I thought you would.”

Lance leaped up. “Now where should I put this? And what should I name her?”

Keith stood beside him. “It’d look cute next to that pink one,” he said. “What do you mean, name?”

“I name all my babies! What kind of father would I be? That ones Cynthia, because she’s purple, and that makes me think of the Color Purple, and that makes me think of Cynthia Erivo-“ He pointed at the white one next to it- “That one’s Jerry, like Parks and Rec-“ he gestured at a small succulent- “that one’s Pickle but I don’t remember why.”

That was one of the most adorable things Keith had ever heard. 

Lance took five minutes deciding where to put her, but in the end Blue was safely nestled on the windowsill. She looked best in the moonlight, thin silver tracing her petals.

“So, that’s that,” Keith said. “Christmas is officially over.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Lance said.

“What?”

“I didn’t forget your present,” Lance said. “It’s outside.”

“Oh.”

They went downstairs. Lance’s dad was massaging his mom. She likely needed one after that whirlwind of a night. His dad removed one hand to wave at the boys, eliciting a series of grumbles until he replaced it.

“Mom, can I show Keith his present?”

“Sure,” she mumbled.

Lance took Keith by the hand and led him to the door. “Cover your eyes,” He said. “I’ll guide you.”

“Why?”

“I want it to be a surprise.”

Keith clamped one hand over his eyes and the other held Lance’s. He tottered, his bare feet hitting the sidewalk. Lance led him around the house and past a corner for what felt like ages, the anticipation building.

Lance let go of Keith’s hand. “Open your eyes.”

It was a motorcycle. It was red. The glossy finish glistened in the streetlights. There was a bow tied around the handlebars. Everything about it was perfect. It almost looked out of place, leaning against Lance’s house, sitting atop tightly packed snow.

“Lance, I don’t know what-“

“Just take me on a ride sometime,” Lance said. “You can pick me up on this for my day out.”

“You didn’t buy this, did you?”

“Actually, she’s been sitting in our back room for awhile,” Lance said. “We decided to fix it and give it to you.”

“How’d you know I ride motorcycles?”

“I asked Shiro,” Lance said. “He said you were saving up for one.”

“Well, now I have a couple extra thousand dollars.”

“Spend it on me.”

“Okay, gold digger.”

They laughed.

“I still don’t know how to thank you for this,” Keith said.

“It didn’t cost that much.”

“It took you two months.”

“You have no idea how much time I put into this baby,” Lance said, rubbing the seat. “It helps that some of the parts were already put together.”

“Did Hunk test it out?”

“Yep. Works pretty good.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s pretty cold.”

Neither of them were wearing coats. Keith was barefoot. 

“Let’s go back inside,” said Lance. 

“Well,” Keith said, “I should grab my coat and go home. It’s pretty late.”

“Alright,” Lance said, looking disappointed. “But I will point out that my mom allowed sleepovers.”

Keith laughed. “Okay.”

They crept in the house as quietly as they could, to avoid disturbing Julia’s massage. Keith gathered up his stuff.

“We could go get your motorcycle,” said Lance, stealing back towards the front door. That caught his mother’s attention. 

“Hey. It’s snowing,” Lance’s mom said. “Not safe to be riding around on motorcycles.”

“Yeah, okay mom,” Lance grumbled. “Guess you’re walking.”

“Hasn’t killed me yet,” Keith said.

“What are you going to name her?”

Keith’s eyes twinkled. “Probably red.”

“Aw, Keith.”

“Don’t get mushy on me.”

“Well,” Lance hovered in his doorway. “You wanna go now?”

“I just remembered,” said Keith. “There’s one more part to your gift.”

Lance’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“I’ll take you out wherever you want. Your pick.”

“Like, a date?”

“Shut up, Lance. Like an evening out.”

“Hell yeah! That’s awesome. Thanks.”

“The least I can do after what you did for me.”

“I know something else you can do,” said Lance.

“What?”

“Look,” Lance said, pointing above the front door, where a clump of berries was stapled. “Mistletoe.” He eyed Keith, playful.

“You’re too much,” Keith said, slapping him on the shoulder. Lance and his jokes. Sometimes, for Keith at least, the line between truth and sarcasm was too thin. For a moment there, Keith was scared it was the former.

Lance’s laugh was halfhearted. “Got you.”

Snow was falling again, but Keith wasn’t cold. There was warmth everywhere, emanating from Lance, his house, and his family. “Merry Christmas, Lance.”

“Merry Christmas, Keith.”

The door swung shut, leaving Keith alone with his thoughts and the soft snowfall.

——

When Keith walked into the diner, he was met with chaos.

“Happy New Year’s!” Hunk said, opening his arms.

Pidge, tinkering with a confetti cannon, said hello without so much as a movement of the eyes.

Lance sat in a booth, with an open seat next to him. Noticing Keith’s entrance, he patted the booth. “Saved you a spot,” he said.

“I’m not late, am I?”

“Well, it’s 11:30, so no. Why are you so late?”

“Had to decide whether I felt like leaving the house.”

“I should be insulted, but at this point I’m just glad you’re here.”

“We love a man with low standards,” said Pidge, dryly.

“You won’t believe this,” said Hunk, sliding across from them and forcing Pidge to shift. “Appetizers are half price!”

“YES!” Lance cheered. He was close to Keith, far too close. 

They ended up with a table full of samplers. Keith ate until his stomach hurt, and it still wasn’t remotely close to being finished.

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance were watching a vine compilation. Keith was content to sit back and watch his friends have fun. 

“One minute warning,” said the T.V., stuck in the dingy corner across from the table.

“Shit! That fast?” Hunk cried. They scrambled to close the video and sat in suspense.

“My cannon should be ready,” said Pidge.

“Who’s gonna kiss me at midnight!?” Lance called.

“10...9...8…”

Keith glanced at Lance. He was sitting very still, facing the TV screen, the ball about to drop reflected in his eyes.

7...6...5…

Lance looked back at Keith and scooted closer to him, an idea forming on his lips.

4...3...2…

“Keith-“ He reached toward Keith-

“1!”

Lance, hiding his thoughts, dropped his hand, leaped up and screamed. 

Pidge shot the confetti cannon. Well, less of a shot, and more of an explosion, but the end result was the same. Confetti fluttered down around the group.

Keith lowered his eyes, unsure of what he had been thinking in the fever of the New Year. He leaned back.

“Happy New Year!” Hunk hollered.

“Yeah, happy new year.” Keith murmured.

The lone waitress, walking over to the table, glanced disapprovingly at the mess of confetti on the floor, and let it go. “Who wants sparkling cider?” 

Lance squealed, “I do! Please!”

There was something remarkably detached about New Year’s to Keith, as if he were sitting in a film room, watching the past year go by. Each year was the same. The blend of monotony and the promise of the new made it a stressful holiday for Keith, and this year was no different.

Especially considering what had happened a minute before.

But it was a New Year, and he had Pidge, Hunk, and Lance to spend it with. They were his resolution.

——

Keith’s phone went off. He cursed.

“You know,” said Shiro, “There’s a thing called silent mode.”

“How about you go on silent mode?”

Shiro shook his head. “Who’s calling you?”

“Who do you think?” The ringing ended. Keith thought it was done. And then, it started back up again.

“Keith, if you’re not gonna put it on silence, at least answer it.”

“Fine.” Keith picked up the phone. “Lance, I told you not to call me while I’m working.”

“Well,” Lance’s voice shook. “Happy fucking New Year.”

“What’s your problem?”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, taking deep breaths. “I’m freaking out. There’s an emergency going on here. Can you come to the shop?”

“Why?”

Lance hung up while Keith was halfway through the word. 

“Shiro, can I-“

“Just go,” Shiro said, exasperated but smiling. “It’s not like business is crazy around here.”

Keith was at the shop in record time. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk stood outside, their breath puffing white in the winter air.

“What’s going on?” Keith wheezed, out of breath from running.

“It’s closed,” Lance said, his voice numb.

The door read: “According to City Ordinance 78, this establishment does not have the permit necessary for operation. Contact Pat Newman at 451-032-3729 for information on your next steps.”

“According to Pat Newman,” Pidge said, waving her phone, “It can take six months to a year to receive a permit.”

Keith’s head spun. “This doesn’t make sense. The city would have to notify you before shutting down your business. And why would it take so long to get a permit?”

“This is shady,” said Hunk.

Lance made eye contact with Keith. His eyes said all they needed to say: Lotor.

“I think Lotor’s behind it,” Pidge said.

Lance and Keith’s eyes bugged.

“Sorry to go through your stuff,” Pidge continued, “but I read the letter in your office. That was after I heard word of what happened at the library.”

“Who told you about that?” Lance said.

“Allura. She was there.”

“Oh.”

“So I’ve been side-eying that fucker Lotor for a while. Then, I found spyware installed on my computer. I was able to track the I.P. Address to a known local hacker.”

Hunk said, questioning, “is that why you went out that one time?”

“Yeah. I went to a coffeehouse nearby and hacked into their computer. Considering they’re supposed to be a hacker, their internet security was laughable. Anyhow, Lotor was one of their clients.”

“Pidge! Why didn’t you say anything till now?” Hunk complained.

“I didn’t want to sound paranoid. I was gathering evidence.”

“...okay.”

“We need to find out more about how he got rid of our permit.”

“I know,” Lance said, disgusted, “He bribed them.”

“You’re probably right.” Pidge addressed Lance. “I’m pretty sure Lotor wants to get back at you in particular here for the whole Keith thing.”

Keith froze. On a deeper level, he knew it was his fault Lotor was attacking Lance, but when Pidge said it out loud like that, he felt guilty.

“I should go,” he said, looking as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Why?”

“I need to go back to work.” That excuse didn’t work on Lance. He knew Keith well enough to know he was feeling anxious.

“Keith, wait,” said Lance.

Keith walked down the street, despite Lance’s protestations, and back to the library, feeling sick.

——

Time: 1:13am  
Lance: hey Keith  
Lance: Keith?  
Lance: Its not your fault  
Lance: Lotor is crazy  
Lance: we can figure it out  
Lance: Keith?  
Lance: Keith?  
Lance: K  
Lance: E  
Lance: I  
Lance: T  
Lance: H  
Lance: Keith??  
Lance: are you dead?  
Lance: did Lotor get you??  
Keith: I was asleep.  
Keith: considering it’s 1am, that’s pretty normal  
Keith: your notifications woke me up  
Lance: whoops  
Lance: you don’t have me on mute?  
Keith: you can do that?  
Lance: NEVER MIND  
Lance: anyways like I said I don’t think this is your fault  
Lance: no one is mad at you  
Keith: thanks  
Lance: we’ll kick his ass  
Keith: yep.  
Lance: anyways  
Lance: now that that’s settled  
Lance: since we’re both up  
Lance: about part of your Christmas present  
Keith: I put all the receipts with your stuff  
Keith: so return whatever you want  
Lance: NO! I love your presents  
Lance: could I redeem the day out thing this Saturday  
Keith: sure  
Lance: SWEET!!!  
Keith: I’m going back to bed now  
Lance: I was gonna plan out everything rn >:(  
Lance: fine we’ll do that tomorrow  
Lance: sweet dreams  
Keith: ok

——

Keith sped through the streets. His motorcycle roared beneath him. 

Motorcycles reminded him of his last foster family. His dad, or as close to one as he’d had, taught him to ride. It was less an act of paternal love and more an act of guilt, as the family didn’t intend to adopt him. Every day, after dinner, he and Keith went outside and rode. When the time came, at age 16, Keith got his license. A week later, he was legally emancipated from the state. A month after that, he moved out.

Keith hadn’t ridden in a while. He was a little shaky.

He made it to Lance’s in one piece. Lance was sitting on the curb, waiting for him. Upon seeing Keith, he leapt up in excitement.

“It’s cold,” Keith said. “Don’t wait outside.”

Lance pouted. “I’m wearing the coat you got me, though.”

“I saw that.” Keith smiled and shifted forward on the seat. “Hop on.”

Lance climbed on behind him, gingerly. He wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist. He was trembling, ever so slightly, as if he were anxious.

“Is this your first time on a motorcycle?” Keith grinned.

Lance pressed his face into Keith’s back, hiding his embarrassment. “...yes.”

“Well, hold on tight.” Keith zoomed down the street. Lance clung on to his back like a koala, screaming in his ear. After a while, he quieted, and pulled his face out of Keith’s jacket.

They sped past the horizon. It was sunset. The sky was streaked with purple, pink, and orange. Just barely, beneath the roar of the motorcycle, Keith was sure he heard Lance sigh. He tightened his grip on Keith and leaned into him.

“WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO?” Keith yelled.

“DOWNTOWN!” They wove in and out of streets, Lance wincing whenever he felt Keith was too close to a car. Eventually, Lance screamed, “STOP HERE.”

It was a small pub at the corner of two roads. At this time of day, the parking lot nearby was empty. Keith parked and Lance, both glad and disappointed the ride was over, let go of Keith’s waist. 

“Not that this is a bad place,” Keith said. “But out of all the places you could make me pay for?”

“I’m not a TOTAL gold digger.”

It was dim and quiet inside the pub. They were seated immediately. It took Lance ten minutes to settle on a drink, and picking an entree took far longer. 

“Pick up the pace,” Keith whined.

“No,” said Lance. “I have to pick the perfect meal for the perfect night.”

Keith didn’t know how to respond to that. “Fine.”

The lights were dim. So dim, in fact, that all Keith could see of Lance’s face was his bright eyes and the sharp curve of his jawline. Lance crossed his arms. “What are you looking at?”

YOU. “That sign behind you,” Keith fumbled.

Lance turned. “The bathroom sign?”

“Yep.”

“You’re a weird guy, Keith.”

“I know.”

Their food arrived. Keith, famished at this point, took less than ten minutes to demolish his meal. Lance hadn’t touched the actual food yet, as he was enjoying his drink.

“Lance,” Keith said.

“It’s my night out, let me take my time.” Lance wanted to savor every moment out with Keith, but there was no way he’d tell him that. Ever.

Keith sat back in his chair, eyes glazed, and his eyes fell on Lance again. His face, silhoutted in the dim ochre light of the pub, his thin, pretty fingers clutching his fork, the small, delicate bites he took of his shepherd’s pie. 

Pretending he was looking at the bathroom sign again, Keith glanced ever so briefly past Lance, and that’s when he saw Lotor. Sitting at the table behind them, leering at Keith. He had no recollection of when Lotor had entered the pub, of how long he had sat at the table across, spying on him and Lance. Keith’s grip tightened around his silverware. 

“What is it?” Lance asked. He followed Keith’s gaze straight to Lotor, and turned around as if he had seen nothing. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but don’t look at him. He wants your attention.”

“I know,” Keith said. That didn’t make him any less angry.

“Everything all right?” The waiter said, indicating Lance’s food, which was mostly untouched.

“It’s fine,” Keith said. “We’ll take our check now.”

“And a to go box,” added Lance. “Please.”

Lotor called out, “I’d like my check as well.” He looked at Keith meaningfully.

“Oh my God,” Lance said. “We need to get out of here.”

“No, you know what?” Keith said, fed up. “We can meet him in the front. I’d love to hear what this fucker has to say.” He slammed a tip down on the table, paid the check, and stalked out the door, Lance following behind him.

Lotor emerged from the door a minute later. “Keith! What a coincidence!”

“Don’t even try it,” Keith said between gritted teeth.

“It’s not my fault we ran into each other. Was I supposed to leave early?”

“We know you’ve been tracking us. The games end now.”

“If you’re referring to that unfortunate incident at Lance’s car shop here, I’m sorry. There’s no way I could have let someone break the law like that.”

“And to think I gave you a discount,” said Lance.

“I don’t know what strings you’re pulling behind closed doors, but find someone else to fuck with.”

“Closed doors? Someone to “fuck” with? You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I suppose the things you do with Lance are none of my business,” Lotor said, holding his hands up as if to protect himself.

Keith lost it. He lunged at Lotor, his hand in a fist. He was an inch away from landing a punch when Lance stopped him.

“Stop!” Lance said, holding Keith’s arms.

“Get off!” Keith snarled.

“No! Stop it!”

Lotor looked between the two of them, smirking.

Keith struggled forward, but Lance held on. Eventually, he realized hitting Lotor would be impossible, and gave up.

“Fine,” said Keith, giving Lotor the most violent stare possible.

Lotor turned and looked over his shoulder. “Bye, beautiful.” He blew a kiss and walked away.

“YOU ASS!” Keith shrieked. He rounded on Lance, furious. “Why’d you stop me?”

“If you even lay a finger on him, things are gonna get way worse.”

“You said we’d kick his ass!”

“In a metaphorical sense!”

“I hate metaphors!”

“Keith, listen. You do not want him on your bad side. Look what he did to the company,” Lance said.

“Yeah, and it was cause of me.” Keith sat on the curb, head in his hands.

Lance sighed. “We’ve been over this.”

“Sorry for ruining your night out.”

“Shut up! You didn’t ruin it.” Lance sat beside Keith on the curb. “I’m happy I got to come out with you tonight.

“Me too,” said Keith.

“What do you want to do now?”

“Let’s go for a ride.”

——

Lance was beautiful. The dusky purple of the setting sun set his every feature off. He laughed, keeping a tight grasp on Keith. Keith risked quick glances at Lance when the road was safe, and all he thought was: I want to kiss him.

Oh my god, he thought, I want to kiss him.


	6. Halfway To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge and Hunk, on their own, discover information on Lotor, and one surprising other source. Keith and Lance run into trouble.

The library was near empty, as usual. The perfect atmosphere to get work done. Unfortunately for Pidge, Keith and Lance were getting in the way.

“I can’t believe this,” Keith raged, pacing back and forth.

“I hate him,” said Lance, glaring at the floor. He smacked a jar of pencils off his desk.

Pidge gazed over her computer screen at the two boys. Keith and Lance had been angry for the past few days. Understandably, but unproductively angry. If Keith kept up the pacing, he was going to wear a hole in the carpet. And Lance was cycling between a sullen anger, directed at everyone around him, or tears and exclamations that “he did nothing to deserve this.” It was a little ironic, and beyond irritating, that their anger at Lotor was getting in the way of dealing with Lotor.

Even worse than that, she was gonna miss her movie with Hunk if she wasted any more time being a babysitter.

“Now what did that accomplish?” Pidge said, indicating the mess of pencils on the floor. “Pick those up.”

“Fine.” Lance sulked.

“Pidge, I bet you could find out where Lotor lives,” Keith said, halting his pacing, an alarming look in his eyes.

“I’m not giving you his address.” Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Well then what the hell are we supposed to do?”

“Don’t ask me!” Pidge reached her breaking point. If they spent any longer working themselves into a frenzy, all of them were going to go insane. The only way anything was getting done was if Keith and Lance were removed from the equation. “By the way, you guys like Star Wars, right? Hunk and I have two extra tickets. You should take them. The movie’s in an hour.” At this point, it was worth giving up the movie if it meant a few hours of precious, precious quiet. 

“YES!” Lance yelled, discarding his emotions from the moment before. “KEITH! ARE YOU EXCITED!?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, smiling a little at Lance’s exuberation.

“THANKS, PIDGE!”

“Whatever,” Pidge said. “Just take the tickets and go.”

Lance bolted from the library, Keith following behind him. Only a few minutes later, Hunk arrived.

“Pidge, you ready to go?” He said, walking into the library. Poor guy. He just missed Keith and Lance sauntering out of there with free movie tickets. Fair warning: if this was how Pidge dealt with behavior, she would be an awful parent.

“Actually,” She said, “I gave my tickets to Keith and Lance.”

“You WHAT?!”

 

“They were being annoying!”

Hunk was unconvinced that this was sufficient reason.

“If you were there, you’d understand.” Pidge sighed. “We can go tomorrow, on me.”

“Fine, as long as I’m not paying.”

“Forget about tomorrow,” Pidge said. “Let’s focus on now. Can you help me with this Lotor stuff? We need a plan.”

\----

Keith and Lance stood in line, waiting to get into the theatre. “I get the feeling Pidge wanted us out of there,” Lance mused.

“No, really?” Keith asked, sarcastic.

“I can’t help being angry, okay!?” Lance said. “He pisses me off.”

“Join the club,” Keith said, “But we need to do something about it.” 

“You’re right,” Lance said. “When we go back, we’ll help Hunk and Pidge out.”

They crossed through the doors into the theatre.

“Gross,” Keith said, looking at the posters on the wall. “The Emoji Movie this Saturday? What is this, 2017?”

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Guess what? I did.”

“The Emoji Movie is the paragon of modern art!”

“It’s an outdated relic of facebook memes!”

“That’s what makes it good!”

“We have different taste.”

“Whatever,” Lance said, “The only thing keeping me here with you is seeing Kylo Ren.”

“I don’t get your obsession with Kylo Ren.”

“You think he’s hot too!”

“Yeah, but I don’t really care about him.”

“Yeah? Then who’s your man?”

“I don’t have a man.”

“Yes, you do,” Lance said, nudging Keith. “We all have a man.”

“Not me.” The irony in this conversation was too much for Keith to bear. Was he supposed to just come out and say, “Yeah, Lance. Can you be my man?” Come on. There was no way that was happening.

“You’re gay. Every gay has a man.”

“Not this gay. Let it go.”

“Never!”

“I don’t have a man!’

“You will someday.” Suddenly, the conversation had turned from joking to serious, and Lance scrambled to change the subject. “You want popcorn?” He asked.

“No way. That shit’s eight dollars.”

“I’ll pay.”

“Nah.”

“I don’t wanna eat it by myself.”

“Jesus, fine. I’ll pay for half.”

“You want a drink too?”

”Here’s where I draw the line. I am NOT swapping spit with you.” Keith was a liar. He wished he wasn’t thinking about this, he knew it was disgusting, but he kinda wanted to put his mouth on the same place where Lance’s was. It was like a kiss. But if he denied any chance of that happening, Lance would have no idea the thought had even crossed his mind.

Keith hated being a hormonal teenager.

“Suit yourself,” Lance smirked. “I know plenty of people who would.”

“Your pillow?”

“Shut up!”

They walked into the theatre. Their seats were right in the front. Lance groaned. “No wonder Pidge gave us these seats.”

The movie began, and as Keith began to crave popcorn, he noticed the dilemma he faced. Lance had the bucket in his lap, both hands inside. He’d seen this scenario in movies time and time again: two people reach into a popcorn bucket, brushing hands, and blush furiously. The idea repulsed Keith. It’s not that he was a stranger to physical contact, but the idea of touching Lance… it stressed him out.

“Pass the popcorn,” Keith whispered.

“Here.” Lance dropped a handful on Keith’s lap, sniggering quietly.

“You-“ Keith threw a piece at Lance. He caught it in his mouth. 

“Thanks,” Lance said, chewing.

“You’re a little shit.”

“I’m your little shit.”

“In your dreams.”

In response, Lance handed him the popcorn bucket.

About thirty minutes in, Keith put his hand on the armrest between them. He didn’t think anything of it. He just wanted a place to put his arm, for God’s sake.

“Hey,” Lance murmured.

“What?”

“How come you get the armrest?”

“Because you weren’t using it?”

“Well, I want it too.”

“Fine, we’ll share. Stop being so needy.”

Keith scooted his arm over, and his worst fear was realized. Lance’s arm was right up against his. He could feel his body heat.

As much as the idea of being romantic made Keith want to die, it had an irresistible appeal. Lance had appeal, anyway. He was warm, happy. He made faces every time something happened in the movie. He giggled. Keith wanted to surround himself in Lance’s warmth, drown in it. He was going to have to settle for something less.

Something touched Lance’s hand. Keith. Upon Lance’s acknowledgement, Keith pulled away, not wanting to go too far. Quickly, as if capturing a butterfly, Lance grabbed Keith’s hand. Their hearts beat in their chests, almost in sync, their pulses connected through their palms. 

Neither of them could concentrate on the movie. Time passed quickly, far too quickly, as Keith and Lance raced to keep up with their feverish thoughts. Sweat built up between their palms, but neither of them let go.

It was electricity.

Then, like a brick shattering the illusion, the movie was over. The lights came up, illuminating their hands, interlaced on the armrest between them. Keith let go, as if Lance’s hand was an open flame. 

An important choice hung in the air between them. Would they talk about it? Would they ignore it?

Keith wanted the former. Oh, he wanted it. But the last thing he knew how to talk about was why he and Lance were holding hands in a movie theatre, and what would happen next. This is why Keith chose not to participate in romance. It was messy. Too many questions. Too many possibilities. Too many ways he could be let down. So, he chose the latter.

“D’you think Pidge and Hunk are still at the library?” Keith said, starting an unrelated conversation, hopeful that Lance wouldn’t interject.

“Uh- yeah. I don’t know.” Lance couldn’t help but feel a little rejected. He knew Keith was a hard guy to crack, but not THIS hard.

They unfurled from their seats, limbs stiff. 

“You wanna go see if they’re still there?” Keith asked.

“Sure.”

They made their way out of the dim theatre. Lance focused on Keith’s form ahead, so close to him, so distant. 

Lance was beginning to think his intimate understanding of Keith was what was keeping them apart. He knew Keith too well, knew he ran from affection. Knew there was a chance he could be rejected. Why did possibility matter? He needed to take a chance.

“Keith-”

“What?”

“I- I forgot.” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. Losing Keith was a risk he couldn’t take. Lance cursed himself inwardly for being a coward.

\----

“Why can’t I sit shotgun?” Pidge complained.

“Dude, this equipment takes up space, okay?” Hunk patted the miniature satellites beside him fondly. “These are my babies and I’m not letting them out of my sight.”

“God, fine.” Pidge hated sitting in the backseat. It made her feel like a child.

“I… think this is it,” Hunk said, turning left.

“We almost there?” Said Pidge, craning her neck to see out the windshield.

“I don’t know! Rich neighborhoods are weird,” Hunk said. “You think it’s a road, but it’s someone’s driveway.”

“Hunk…”

“Hey, I’m following the directions you gave me.”

“Wait, you were right, I see it! Turn left.”

“Okay.” Hunk pulled up alongside a behemoth mansion. The lawn was well manicured. There was a sculpture of Zarkon beside the front door. It was so ridiculously wealthy that it had TURRETS. How extra was that? Pidge thought she couldn’t hate Lotor any more than she usually did. She was wrong. 

“Hunk,” She said, “We should be a little further away. We look a little obvious.”

“Oh.” The car inched forward, until they were beside an apple tree further down the road.

Pidge pulled her laptop open. “Can you boot up the satellites?”

“I’m on it.”

Within minutes, Pidge was catching a signal from inside the house. Everything went smoothly, until her laptop beeped, displaying a bright red warning signal. “Shit.”

“What is it?”

“They have some sort of firewall up.” She hunched over her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. “God!”

“Let me try something,” Hunk said. He fiddled with dials on the side of the contraption sitting beside him in the passenger seat.

“Hunk, you absolute genius! Their computer system can’t handle signals changing this fast.” Pidge completed typing a series of codes into her computer and looked up. “I think it worked.”

“We’re in,” Hunk laughed.

“Okay, I see two systems. I’ll just pick one.”

“What does it say?” Hunk asked. He scrambled into the backseat, prompting curses from Pidge as she protected her laptop. 

“I think it’s Lotor’s,” she said. “Let me check his email.”

“Oh my god,” Hunk laughed, pointing at the screen. “I can’t believe he subscribes to a haircare service.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Wait,” Hunk said. “Check the deleted emails.”

“I swear to god,” Pidge said. “If we had to go through that whole firewall and they don’t even encrypt their deleted emails-“

The page loaded. “Oh my god,” Hunk gasped.

“OH. MY. GOD.” Pidge echoed Hunk.

It was correspondence between Lotor and a censored government official, in which Lotor utilized a mixture of blackmail and bribery to convince them to invalidate the car company’s permit. Pidge was furious. Was pressure from Lotor all it took to throw people’s principles away?

She downloaded the email onto her hard drive. “We’ve got it,” she said.

“Wait,” Hunk said. “What about the other computer system?” 

Their eyes met, widening in realization, and in unison, they said: “Zarkon.”

“HURRY! OPEN IT!” Hunk yelled, bouncing up in down in excitement.

“Okay, okay, calm down.”

Zarkon’s system was far more complicated than Lotor’s. Logic followed that the more strict a security measure was, the more needed to be protected. What exactly was Zarkon hiding?

Pidge clicked through layers and layers of folders (all of which required passwords) and came upon a spreadsheet. 

“I don’t get it,” she said, scrolling through it. “It looks like a bunch of numbers, but from where?”

“It’s money,” Hunk said. “I’ll bet you anything it’s money.”

Pidge noticed corresponding links at the end of each row. These links led to home addresses.  
“If it’s linking money and citizens,” she said. “It must be taxes.”

“Well, why would he have copies of everyone’s taxes?”

“Because-“ Pidge clicked. “There’s a whole row taking a percentage of their taxes. And he wouldn’t need that in his personal computer unless…”

“... he’s taking tax money from the city.”

“He’s embezzling,” she said.

Hunk asked, “Do you realize what this means?”

“I know what embezzling means, Hunk.”

“No, I mean, we have dirt on both of them now.”

“Holy crap.”

“Who knew the poor people’d get the upper hand?”

“Down with the bourgeoisie.” Pidge downloaded the evidence as quickly as she could, and shut her laptop. “I swear,” she said, shaking her head. “Do people really think passwords and firewalls are enough? All that money and he could buy some decent software.”

“Do the world a favor and don’t tell Zarkon that,” Hunk said. “Besides, he spends all his money on THAT.” He gestured to the mansion.

“Don’t remind me,” Pidge said. “I get sicker the longer we look at it.”

“Same here.”

“Let’s go find that official.”

——

Lance: hey  
Lance: is it just me or have Hunk and Pidge dropped off the face of the earth  
Keith: maybe they’re busy  
Lance: maybe  
Lance: ughhhh  
Lance: hunk just texted me they can’t hang tomorrow either  
Keith: aren’t we supposed to plan the Lotor thing tomorrow   
Lance: we WERE  
Lance: he said something came up  
Keith: hug  
Keith: *huh  
Lance: KEITH THAT TYPO  
Lance: THAT WAS SO CUTE FKDJDKE  
Keith: shut up and die  
Lance: omg I love Rihanna!!!  
Keith: why are you like this  
Lance: you know you love me  
Lance: you busy tomorrow?  
Keith: no I have a day off  
Lance: wanna hang out???  
Keith: yeah why not  
Lance: Sonic??  
Keith: sure

——

It had been almost no trouble at all getting the government employee to fess up. One glance at the evidence that Pidge and Hunk printed out, and they folded.

“I didn’t want to lose my job,” they said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, right. How much did he pay you?” Hunk said.

Pidge gave Hunk a warning glance. “Not the point. Are you confirming to us, right now, that Lotor persuaded you to illegally delete a business permit?”

“Yes,” They said, shrinking back, fearing further consequences.

“Thank you,” Pidge said. “That’s all we needed.”

Pidge stopped the voice recorder on the way to the car, and cradled it in her palms, a sign of victory.

“Finally, I get to sit shotgun,” she said, getting in the car.

“What do we do now?” Hunk asked.

“Good question.”

They drove to the library. The sun was setting; the library closed in an hour. Pidge had faith that they’d be able to get done what they needed to do.

Hunk and Pidge walked inside, holding all the evidence they’d gathered: all the documents, Pidge’s laptop, and the voice recording.

Allura was sitting at the front desk. She perked up when she saw them enter. “Hello, Hunk, Pidge.” Allura said. “I haven’t seen you two in awhile.”

Shiro, sitting next to her, said, “I was beginning to think you guys forgot how to read.”

“Ha ha,” Pidge said.

“So why are you two here so late?”

“We could use your help.”

——

“An oreo milkshake, fries, and a razzberry razzamatazz,” the worker said, passing their order over.

“Razzamatazz,” Lance said. “I didn’t even know Sonic had that.”

“Here’s to trying something new,” Keith said, raising his cup.

“Here’s to tradition,” Lance said, likewise raising his cup.

They tapped their cups together, snickering, and took long gulps of their milkshakes.

“Pass the salt,” Lance said.

“Aren’t your fries salty enough?” Keith smiled. He handed the shaker over, and in the process, their hands touched, sending a familiar jolt of electricity through Keith.

He hated himself. Did he really have to be so predictable and gay that all it took was a touch to make him melt? If he spent one more minute sitting here with Lance, looking at his chocolate, wavy hair, and his delicate, thin fingers, and his piercing blue eyes and his ocean smile, he was going to combust.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” Keith said.

He panted, trying to focus on something, ANYTHING, and he ended up bent over the sink, staring himself in the eyes.

How long could he and Lance go on like this, suspended between friendship and more, a constant tension between them? Keith wondered if Lance was even aware of how tense it could be between them. For all he knew, he was the only one losing it here. He had to get it together, or he’d lose even the fragile balance they’d achieved, and spiral down past friendship into strangers. 

Keith splashed water in his face, and firmly told himself to act normal. Just this once.

“Fancy seeing you in a place like this,” a familiar voice purred. Lotor stood there, leaning against the wall, blocking Keith’s exit.

Keith said, dryly, “A bathroom?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Lotor said.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Keith said, looking pointedly at their surrounding. 

“Then why don’t we take it somewhere nicer?”

Feeling like he had no choice, Keith followed Lotor to the back room of the Sonic, looking over his shoulder for Lance.

Anticipating Keith’s objection, Lotor said, “Don’t worry about Lance. He’ll hardly miss you. This won’t be long.”

“Good,” Keith said.

“Ouch!” Lotor said. “That’s cold.”

Keith shrugged. “What do you want?”

“We both know what happened to Lance’s business was… unfortunate.”

“Yeah, and who’s fault is it?”

Lotor ignored him. “I’d be willing to help you out, in exchange for something.”

“So, basically, you did this to us so you can get something from us.”

 

“Keith, I’m trying to help you.” Lotor sighed. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“What’s the something?”

“A kiss.”

Keith recoiled. “What the fuck.”

“Just one. That’s all I ask. You’re very attractive. It’s the only thing I can ask for that I can’t buy myself.”

“So, all I have to do is kiss you, and you’ll give Lance his company back.”

“You have my word.” Lotor extended a hand.

Clearly, the last thing Keith wanted to do was kiss Lotor. Hell, he didn’t even want to touch him. But Lance’s company was stuck. Lance was stuck. He’d make it a quick peck, and he’d think of Lance the whole time.

Keith reached forward to shake his hand.

“STOP!” Lance cried, pushing employees aside as he ran to Keith. “DON’T TOUCH HIM!” He grabbed Lotor’s collar, pulling him away from Keith. He was met with a fist to the face, and he doubled over on the floor.

“Try me,” Lotor said, smirking down at Lance.

“Maybe I will,” Keith said, right behind Lotor, and threw a punch, connecting squarely on the back of his head. Lotor collapsed on the floor, and Keith continued with his blows, panting, angry. It wasn’t right, but damn if it didn’t feel good. It was endless, punch after punch. Then Lance was on him, drawing him away from Lotor. 

“Stop,” Lance said. “Keith, stop.”

Lance’s voice calmed him. He looked down at his palms. They were bloody.

“You can really land a punch,” Lotor said, wiping his mouth and staring at Keith with admiration on his face. He stood up, wincing, and his face darkened. “You have no idea what you’ve brought on yourself, Lance,” he spat. Blood dripped from his face to the floor. He left a trail as he swept out of the Sonic, a hurricane of anger.

“I can’t believe it,” Lance said. “You beat him to a bloody pulp and it’s my fault?”

“He still has a thing for me after that? Gross.”

“I’m screwed,” Lance said.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said. “I saw him hit you, and I just lost it.”

“Look, I’m happy you stood up for me, but… Keith, why? Why were you talking to him?”

“He said we could make a deal. For your company.”

“What was the other side of the deal?” Keith was silent. “Keith?”

“Me. Well, part of me. A kiss.”

Lance was cold, less sympathetic than he usually was. It caught Keith off guard. “You think he’d stop there? Just a kiss? That’s not who he is. And you think he’d honor the deal?”

“I’m strong. I could push him off,” Keith said. “And what other choice did I have?”

“Not that.”

“I was gonna do it for you! For God’s sake, Lance. It’s just a kiss!”

“It’s more than that,” Lance said, shaking his head. “Am I supposed to sit here and watch him force himself on you?”

“It’s my choice.”

“So you’re not repulsed by him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Keith said, looking at Lance in disbelief. “He’s disgusting. But so is what he did to you guys.”

“So you give him what he wants?”

“You needed your company back!”

“I don’t care about what I need. What about what I want?”

“Well, Lance, what do you want?”

“I don’t know! I don’t want him touching you.”

“It’s my decision. For all of you.”

“We could figure something else out.”

“Like what?” Keith was reaching the brink, emotionally. “LOTOR CLOSED YOUR SHOP BECAUSE OF ME! I NEEDED TO DO SOMETHING!”

 

“I NEVER ASKED YOU TO DO THAT! IF YOU’D JUST TRUST ME TO SOLVE IT WITH YOU-”

“I DID WHAT I THOUGHT WAS BEST! YOU TELL ME WHEN YOU THINK OF SOMETHING BETTER!”

The air went cold. “Well,” Lance said. “If you’re so eager to do everything on your own, without me, then go ahead.” He blinked furiously, as if holding back tears. 

“Lance, don’t-“ Lance was out the door. “Lance!” Keith, in shock, sat on a box of napkins, in front of all the bewildered Sonic employees, not caring what they thought, and tried his best not to cry.

\----

“So, let me get this straight,” Shiro said. “You’ve been spending the past few days on a vigilante detective mission gathering dirt on Lotor because you think he shut down your business?”

“We THOUGHT,” Hunk said. “Now we KNOW.”

“Let me see.” Shiro said. As he flipped through the files, his mouth hung open, as he was shocked by what he saw. “I knew something was wrong with Zarkon, I just knew it.”

“Because the library funding was lower?” Allura laughed.

“Yes!” Shiro slammed his hand onto the table, passionate. “Libraries are how we inform the uninformed masses! You cut off the libraries, you cut off the people! I’ve been saying this for so long! Now i have confirmation!”

“Forget I said anything.”

“Hmm, Shiro has a point,” Hunk said, looking thoughtful.

“Not the point we need to focus on right now,” Pidge said. “Do you two know how to blackmail?”

“I have legal experience,” Allura said. “That’s basically the same thing, right?”

“Good enough,” Hunk laughed.

“Okay, well, to begin with, we have to be sure you guys have footing here,” Allura said, “Or this could backfire.” She pulled out a thick law manual from the reference desk   
“Voice recordings are legal in this state,” Allura said, paging through the law manual. “So you’d be allowed to release it to the media.”

“Im guessing the hacking isn’t?”

“No. You’d have to keep that quiet. Don’t even tell him how you got the information. As long as he knows we’re holding the recording over his head, he can’t question how we got it. We hold the power here.”

“So, if we just call Lotor over here and show him the dirt we have on his family,” Pidge said, “Then he’ll have no choice but to leave us alone.”

“Okay, solid,” Hunk said, “But how do we get him to show up?”

Pidge said, “I hate to say it, but his obsession with Keith was what got this whole thing started. If we get Keith here, he might show up.”

“I don’t like that idea,” Shiro said.

“What else can we do?”

“It’s hard, but it’s right,” Allura said. “Besides, we won’t let him anywhere near Keith.”

“I’m guessing we can’t tell Keith what we’re doing?” Shiro asked.

“Well, no, because I doubt he’d show up if we did.”

“That makes me feel gross,” Hunk said.

“You put too little faith in Keith,” Allura said. “He’ll do anything to help you guys out. He’d come.”

“I’m not telling him,” Pidge said.

“Alright,” Allura said. “That’s your decision.” She crossed her arms.

Hunk asked, “So we have a game plan?”

“Just let me talk some sense into both of them. Then we’ll see what happens.” Pidge said.

\----

Pidge: Lance??   
Pidge: What’s going on with you and Keith??  
Lance: nothing  
Pidge: come on man I’m not stupid  
Pidge: you guys haven’t talked in days  
Pidge: you’re like best friends now what gives   
Lance: we got in a fight  
Pidge: I figured that much  
Lance: yeah but  
Lance: I really messed up  
Lance: he probably hates me now  
Pidge: just from watching you guys I can say  
Pidge: he def doesn’t hate you  
Lance: I blamed him for the Lotor stuff   
Lance: kinda  
Lance: not really blame but I got mad bc he didn’t come to me about it   
Pidge: it’s valid to feel left out of decisions but you can’t pin it on him  
Pidge: I’m not saying he made the right choice with everything but  
Lance: wait  
Lance: how do you know what happened?  
Pidge: I have connections at Sonic dude  
Pidge: my brother works there  
Lance: SHIT MATT SAW ME BEING A DICK?  
Pidge: well, he wasn’t THERE, but he knows  
Lance: now I feel even worse  
Pidge: you’re not a dick, you just overreacted   
Pidge: you had good intentions   
Lance: idk if he’ll want to see me again  
Pidge: look  
Pidge: come to the library tomorrow   
Pidge: we have a plan for the whole Lotor thing  
Pidge: and yes, Keith is coming too  
Pidge: so you better not bail  
Pidge: you owe him some apologies  
Lance: okay.  
Lance: thanks Pidge 

\----

Pidge: hey Keith   
Keith: yeah?  
Pidge: i know there’s some stuff with you and Lance right now  
Keith: I’m not gonna talk about it  
Pidge: you don’t have to  
Pidge: you just might see him and it could be awkward idk  
Pidge: I just need you to come to the library tomorrow  
Keith: I work there so yeah..  
Keith: I’ll be there   
Pidge: good

\----

Allura: Hello  
Keith: Did I miss a shift?  
Allura: No, nothing like that  
Allura: I just wanted to tell you  
Allura: Tomorrow, we’re trying to lure Lotor to the library  
Allura: We have a plan and it involves you  
Allura: Pidge didn’t want to tell you bc she thought you wouldn’t come  
Allura: Don’t worry he won’t touch you  
Keith: Okay, so what’s the plan  
Allura: You come  
Allura: He shows up  
Allura: We blackmail him  
Keith: what’s the blackmail  
Allura: I’ll tell you tomorrow  
Allura: Not to be paranoid but you never know who tracks our phones  
Keith: ok see you tomorrow

\----

Hunk carefully hung a ‘closed’ sign on the library doors.

“Are they coming?” Shiro asked.

“They should be here soon,” Pidge said. “Wait. Speak of the devil.”

Lance crossed through the door.

“Where’s Keith?” Shiro asked. “Don’t you guys come in a pair?”

Lance shrugged, much quieter than usual. He stood next to Hunk, his shoulders hunched. His eyes were red. The skin around one of them was dark purple, bruised.

“Hey dude,” Hunk whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Could be better,” Lance said. “But I’m not that great of a person, so what does it matter?”

“Lance-”

Keith walked in. Lance caught his eye, but Keith looked away. He felt a mixture of things when he saw Lance. He felt sad. He felt angry. He felt like running up to Lance and hugging him. He felt like giving him the cold shoulder. The end result was a mushy slop in his head, a mess that he didn’t want to tackle right now. It would compromise the mission. It was safer to ignore Lance. That made him feel shitty too, but there weren’t very many other options available short of a nervous breakdown.

“When’s Lotor coming?” Keith asked.

“We don’t know,” Hunk said. “It’s all based on you.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Wait, what? Who told him?” Pidge said.

Allura tried as hard as she could to look innocent. “Not me.” She wasn’t great at lying.

“Allura! Lotor could know what’s going on now!”

“Keith isn’t a guinea pig! He deserved to know!”

“I don’t want it to be compromised, it’s not anything personal-”

“Guys-” Hunk said.

A voice boomed through the room, cutting off their voices. “Where are Keith and Lance? I was told they’d be here.” A tall, broad man in a suit walked towards them. He looked like Lotor. Keith supposed it was Mayor Zarkon.

“Shit,” Pidge said, her eyes widening.

“Right here,” Keith said, stepping in front of Lance. He wasn’t on the best terms with Lance, but that wasn’t stopping him from being protective. “What do you want?”

Zarkon was taken aback by Keith’s attitude. He was used to fear, stuttering, tiny people deferring to him as Mayor. “Keith Kogane? I hear you’re harassing my son. If this behavior continues, I’ll have no choice but to expel you.”

“I- what? I didn’t do anything!” Keith remembered Lotor laying, bleeding, on the floor of a Sonic. “Nothing that wasn’t self defense, anyway. You want to hear about who harasses, ask your son. He’d have a lot to tell you.”

“Quiet!” Zarkon roared. Lance grabbed Keith’s arm, startled, and remembering himself, dropped his hand. “I am the one in control here. Don’t speak to me with such disrespect. I could sue this entire establishment if I wanted to.”

“Hold on,” Pidge said, emerging from the back, papers in hand. “I’d be careful before mentioning lawsuits.”

“What is that?” Asked Zarkon, looking dismissively at the documents Pidge held.

“Sit down with us and you’ll see,” Said Pidge.

Hunk stepped forward, looking menacing for once in his life. “I’d listen to her. If you walk away right now, your career is toast.”

“Wait,” Allura said. “If he sees the documents, he’ll know we-”

“We hacked your computer,” Pidge said to Zarkon. She turned back to Allura with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it figured out.”

“You… WHAT!? I could have you thrown in prison!”

“Really?” Pidge said. “Could you afford to? The prison runs on taxes. Wouldn’t you rather save that money for yourself?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said. “And you’re living real cozy on it, aren’t you?”

Zarkon’s strong facade was, momentarily, shaken. He perched on the edge of a chair. Pidge spread the evidence out before him. 

“We have all of it here,” Pidge said. “Fresh from your precious spreadsheets. You stole from each and every citizen in this town. You couldn’t make do with the generous mayor’s salary, you had to take a chunk from the whole damn place.”

“So THAT’S why library funding has gone down!” Shiro said.

“Not the time, Shiro,” said Allura, laying a comforting hand on his arm.

An astonishing anger rose within Keith. Turned out abuse of power passed down from father to son. Violence wasn’t the answer, he knew that, but he longed to lunge at Zarkon, shower him in even a fraction of the pain Keith had endured over the past couple months.

“It’s funny,” Hunk said. “We didn’t even start out looking for dirt on you. It’s Lotor who we’re concerned with. Why don’t you say your piece, Keith?”

“Your son,” Keith said, advancing on Zarkon, “Is vile. He’s disgusting. And I can see who he got it from.”

Zarkon sputtered. “How dare you-”

“I dare,” he continued, “Because he has been making my life living hell ever since I met him. All I ask is to be left alone. But he’s tormented me and my friends for too long. See that black eye on Lance over there? We can thank your son for that.”

Lance felt like utter shit. How could he be sitting here, making it all about himself, his feelings, when Keith was the one who’d went through the most? And yet, as good a friend as ever, Keith was sticking up for him. Alone. He felt awkward stepping in, when Keith wasn’t talking to him, but it was the right thing to do. .Lance would apologize later. What mattered was making sure Keith would be safe from Lotor from now on.

“If Lotor touches Keith again,” Lance said. “I’ll be the one beating him bloody. And you can make damn sure I’ll give a copy of your ‘spreadsheet’ to every reporter I know.”

“Don’t mess with Lance,” Hunk said. “He has connections.”

Zarkon looked around, seeing the opposition that circled him. For once, in his long, pampered life, he was alone. He was small. “What are you going to do with them?” Zarkon said.

Pidge gestured to the array of papers before Zarkon. “Take your pick. Any one of them could destroy your career. All of them together? Not pretty.”

“We can make a deal,” Zarkon said.

“Is it a deal or is it blackmail? Oh well, say whatever you like to keep your dignity.”

“I will see your company reopened,” said Zarkon, wiping sweat off his brow, “And in return, you’ll destroy... all of it. Please. I will see that Lotor leaves you all in peace.”

“Thank you,” Hunk said, crossing his arms in satisfaction.

Zarkon left, papers in hand, muttering about the disturbance Lotor had caused. The main threat removed, Keith became aware that he was much too close to Lance, was still angry at him, and didn’t want to speak with him. He moved away.

Lance was guilty. He didn’t say anything.

“You guys owe me SO much,” Pidge said.

“What else is new?” Lance said, turning his attention to Pidge.

Keith turned away from Lance, his eyes lowered, and went behind the desk.

——

Pidge and Hunk went home. Shiro and Allura, sensitive to the tension present between Keith and Lance, had gone off in the library to work separate projects. 

It was 8:00. Keith was heading home. He passed by Lance, wanting to say something, but too furious, ashamed, and sad to utter a word. He didn’t have to.

“Keith.” Lance’s voice carried through the library. 

Keith stopped in the doorway. He didn’t look at Lance. He didn’t know what would happen if he did.

Lance took a step towards Keith. “I’m sorry.” He took another step.

Keith, thrown off guard, stepped back. Then, he collected himself, and bitterness flooded his thoughts. 

“You treated me like shit.”

“I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Handle what?”

“I felt bad. You can’t do shit like that for me. It wasn’t fair for me to pin my feelings on you, though.”

“I felt bad too. That’s why I did it.”

“Keith, I’d rather burn my skin off than let anyone touch you.”

“What else could I do? Your car company-”

“Keith,” Lance said, drawing closer, “Screw the company. You’re more important to me. We had a plan. We can do things together.”

“I’m not used to that.”

“Well, get used to it.” Lance smiled. “You’re not alone anymore, Keith Kogane.”

“Lance-“

Lance hugged Keith tightly. “You’re my best friend,” Lance exhaled. “Never put yourself on the line for me.”

Keith closed his eyes and leaned further into the embrace. He swore Lance’s lips were an inch from his neck. What he really wanted to do was turn his lips to Lance’s and press into him, lose himself in Lance. But he couldn’t do it. 

How was Keith supposed to know what Lance wanted? Ask him? That was too much to handle. He just got Lance back, and that was good enough.

He settled for melting into Lance’s embrace. “You’re my best friend too,” he said.

He wasn’t ready yet, for him and Lance, for whatever this was. It was harder to confront the truth than it was to orbit around it, getting infinitesimally closer, but never there.

He was close to Lance, so close. But he wasn’t there. Yet.


	7. Prom, Part One: Tousled in Tuxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s the harm in going to prom together? It doesn’t mean anything. Nothing at all.

They were sitting at the diner, trying to have a peaceful breakfast. Well, Keith was trying. The others had given up on that idea a long time ago. Peace with Pidge, Hunk, and Lance was less of a reality and more of an abstract concept. Keith didn’t mind it, as long as he’d had his morning coffee. It was cute, even.

“What!?” Pidge screamed, looking at her phone in disbelief.

Lance looked up from his plate. He’d spent the past five minutes arranging his food just so, because, in his own words, he’d be “bothered if the eggs and the potatoes were touching.” His potatoes were carefully adorned with a ketchup smile. In the mood Keith was in, he found it adorable. It was odd. Not even six months ago, he’d probably start arguing with Lance about food politics and end with eggs smeared in his hair and ketchup streaks on Lance’s shirt. He’d made his peace with it. Maybe that was the peace he’d been thinking of earlier. “What is it, Pidge?”

Her frantic amber eyes scanned the screen. “It says here prom is in MARCH!” Keith was amused by their plight and felt an inexplicable need to reach out and muss Pidge’s already disheveled hair.

Keith balked at his own thought. What was wrong with him this morning? He was being… almost domestic.

“WHAT!?” Lance wheezed, spit spraying from his mouth. Of course, Lance was dramatic no matter what emotion he was displaying.

“Gross,” Pidge said, dodging Lance’s spit with a sour expression

“SORRY! NOW LET ME SEE!” He grabbed the phone from Pidge’s hand. “MARCH 1ST?”

Hunk stopped eating, his fork hovering in the air. “What the cheese,” He said. “Isn’t it usually in May?” 

“Uh, YEAH, USUALLY,” Lance said. “NORMALLY. IN NORMAL PLACES. I hate our school.”

“Our school is busted,” Pidge agreed, picking her fork back up in resignation. She was no stranger to the odd mechanics of her school, and she wasn’t going to question it.

“Why did they move it?” Hunk groaned, setting down his fork in a reverse mirror of Pidge. He rubbed his eyelids.

This whole group was dramatic, Keith thought, cocking his head to one side. It was amusing. Like animals in a zoo.

Pidge rolled her eyes and reclaimed her phone from Lance. “Gross, you left bacon grease on here.” She turned to Hunk, answering his question. “The Student Council kids are gonna be at a bunch of state events through April and May.”

“So everyone else has to suffer?” Lance cocked a thin eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“Hey,” Pidge said, raising her hands in defeat. “They pick the date. Hey, these pancakes are really good!”

“Pidge, you get them every time,” Hunk pointed out.

“The quality can be inconsistent!”

Keith, having had his fill of chaos for the morning, calmly interjected. “What’s the big deal about prom?” He said. “It’s not like you have a date.” It was a low blow, perhaps, but he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease Lance. It may have been a little personally motivated of Keith to tease Lance about his romantic status. Just a bit.

Lance slammed his palms on the table. “YEAH, BECAUSE I THOUGHT I HAD TIME TO GET ONE!” His ocean eyes bored into Keith for what felt like ages, and was, in all reality the time it took to fill a mug with coffee. Then, with a flick of his wavy brown hair, he was on to the next worry. “More importantly, I don’t have a tux yet!” He stared down at his own clothes, pinching his sleeve in horror and disgust, as if he was moments away from walking into prom with nothing on but a ratty, syrup stained NASA t-shirt.

Of course Lance’s first priority was his tux. “The tux shop is always open, so you can pick one up whenever,” Keith pointed out. “Stop stressing about everything.”

Lance opened his mouth as if to argue, but finding no words there, gave up. “You- you may be right,” Lance said, still anxious, “But what about my date?”

Pidge spoke up, a evil twinkle in her eye. “There’s always-” She was cut off by Hunk, who lightly jabbed an elbow into her chest. 

“Don’t,” He muttered, giving pointed looks at Lance and Keith.

“Ouch,” Pidge grumbled, rubbing her chest. She appeared to heed his warning, before adding one final jab. “All I’m saying is, there are some options sitting at this table.”

“Some” was wrong. And Pidge knew it, too. Using the basic process of elimination, since Pidge and Hunk were going together, that left one option. Keith and Lance followed that train of thought simultaneously, and it led them to each other. Their hesitant glances became a full on staring contest. The table was silent. Hunk’s warm eyes flitted nervously between Keith and Lance, as if trying to read their faces. 

Keith’s heart was beating furiously. He was sure Lance’s was too, from the light sheen of sweat on his brow, the way his caramel adam’s apple was bobbing up and down from swallowing, the light flush across the bridge of his nose. Both of them were nervous as hell, but Keith was sure it was for different reasons. After all, Lance was terrified he’d be stuck going with Keith and not some pretty girl he likely pined after at school. Keith had to play it cool with Lance or there was no way he’d be able to go through with what he was about to do.

“Pass the potatoes,” Keith said, casual, pretending nothing had happened. He took one and chewed. He felt Lance’s eyes lingering on him. He swallowed. “You know, that’s not a terrible idea. If you don’t have a date, I could go with you.”

Lance spit out his coffee- again.

“Jesus, Lance!” Pidge lifted her arm to shield her phone screen from the spray. “Ever heard of table manners?”

Lance ignored Pidge, his strained face focused on Keith. “You- WHAT!?”

Pidge snickered. Hunk shot her a strained glance, and she unsuccessfully tried to stifle it with a bite of pancake, almost choking on her laughter. Hunk clapped her back, his eyes on the two boys.

“You said you wanted a date,” Keith said. “We might as well go as a group since I can’t get in on my own. It’s just logic.” He took a sip of his water, hoping the glass hid his flush.

“Oh.” Lance’s head spun. Keith? Asking him to prom? Was a screw loose in the universe? 

And, in classic Keith fashion, he had a watertight justification. Lance knew he probably didn’t mean it romantically. That didn’t stop him from hoping. Maybe, “maybe” being the operative word, Keith meant something more. Lance knew it was too much to expect an elaborate promposal. He wouldn’t be swept off his feet in the middle of a diner. Keith wouldn’t stand on a chair and proclaim his love for the whole diner to hear. That just wasn’t who he was. Still, Lance couldn’t help but wish for a scenario a little more… romantic.

But was it? The thought struck Lance like a lightning bolt. Prom was one of the last things on Keith’s to do list. Hell, any giant gatherings had proved to be far out of Keith’s comfort zone. Lance remembered all to well Keith’s early reluctance to do, frankly, anything. 

He’d forgotten about that lately.

It was funny. Lance was sure after the last party Keith had endured, Keith would never want to go to another. Hell, he wasn’t sure if Keith’d want to see him again after that. But, strangely enough, Keith stuck around, through all of Lance’s disasters, memes, family members, and yes, parties. Lance did the same for Keith. And now here Keith was, sitting here with a straight face, not merely accepting Lance’s request to go and putting up with Lance as he usually did, but having offered to go to prom from his own free will.

Was Lance dreaming?

Lance cleared his throat. “I, um, yeah. Yeah. That’d be great.”

Keith cocked an eyebrow. “You sound excited,” he snarked, his voice low and husky. “Should I find someone else?” He turned his head to watch the door, as if a mysterious second prom date would materialize through the door.

“What!? No! I just…” Lance swallowed. 

Keith was striking today. Lance saw a new side of him poking through- more confident, self assured, even- dare he say it? Flirtatious? 

Their roles were switched today. It was on Lance to be the suave, flirty guy. And now here Keith was, lounging on the booth, arms spread, lazily peering beneath his eyelids at Lance, and sipping his coffee, as if nothing was happening. As if he was content to sit and watch Lance melt into a puddle while sipping his morning joe.

No. Lance was reading too far into Keith’s motives. He just wanted to hang out with his friends. It wasn’t a matter of who he went with. It mattered that he went at all. On a base level, Lance knew that.

But damn if Lance wasn’t going to milk this opportunity. This was his chance to be in a cute couple with Keith (whether Keith considered it one or not was another matter entirely). And if Keith wanted to go toe to toe when it came to flirting, he was outmatched by a master. Lance steeled himself and dove in.

“Well, hotshot,” Lance said, leaning towards Keith. “When are we going tux shopping?”

Keith’s eyes widened. Lance was too close, unfairly close. He could feel his hot breath on his skin. All humor left him and he felt lost. There needed to be some sort of guide on what to do in times like these. Hunk and Pidge were right there, and that made their “intimate” moment far less intimate. “Embarrassing” was a more accurate term.

“Get your coffee breath out of my face,” Keith said.

Lance sat back, satisfied. Keith may have outwardly insulted Lance, but he knew Keith enough to know that all the insults and coldness disguised the emotions which lay beneath. Lance always was the best at flirting.

Or so he thought. Because Keith locked eyes with him, picked up Lance’s mug, and took a sip, right where Lance’s lips had been.

So much for not wanting to swap spit.

——

“How long is this going to take?” Keith kicked at the ground, impatient.

“You better not be scuffing those shoes up,” Lance called. “they’re expensive.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, petulant. “And I’m the one buying them.”

“Touché.”

The wall between them was smooth, and white, and even more boring to watch than Keith had imagined a wall to be. Keith felt himself wondering what Lance was doing on the other side. Was he fully dressed? Did he look good? How did the tux fit on his tall, slender body? Was he dressed at all?

Okay, that was too far.

“Let me see your tux,” Keith said.

“Just wait a minute,” Lance replied. “I’m not going out there looking a mess.”

Keith scowled. Lance, perfectionist as always, was creating a line for the changing room. “You’re always a mess.”

“Hey!”

“Just hurry up.”

“Fine, okay, okay,” Lance said, his speech punctuated by rustling and muffled curses as he smacked into the sides of the changing room. He emerged, ruffling his hair and blinking at Keith under the fluorescent lights of the tux shop.

Keith was wrong. Lance looked less messy than he’d ever looked in his life. He was glowing, even under the harsh mall lights. His blue eyes were echoed emphatically by his tie. His hair was tousled, presumably from rushing out of the fitting room. He had a thumb in each pocket, and his head cocked back. And he was staring at Keith.

After all, Keith was beautiful. The tux was narrowly cut to his slim body, accentuating his frame. He was all snow white and charcoal black and scarlet red, sharp contrasts. His hair curled around the collar of his shirt, away from his long, pale neck. His curious, indigo eyes appraised Lance, taking in his appearance. He was like a magnet, pulling Lance’s eyes to him.

Keith cleared his throat. “I don’t see how red and blue are complementary colors.”

“They go together,” Lance said, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Keith scoffed. “How?”

“They just do, okay?” Lance put his hands in his pockets and rocked up and down on his heels. “You look good,” he said, planting his feet in place.

“So do you.” Keith smiled.

“How will you be paying?” The shopkeeper said, stepping between the two boys and surveying them, likely not expecting them to have much money.

“With debit, thanks.”

\----

“I still think we should have worn them out,” Lance said as they emerged from the shop, bags in hand.

“No way,” Keith cringed. “Everyone would look at us.”

“That’s exactly why we should have worn them out.”

Keith laughed, his curtain of raven hair covering his eyes. “I don’t understand you.”

Lance studied Keith, his blue eyes narrowing in thought. “I think you do,” he said, too serious for the conversation they’d been having just moments before.

Keith knew by now to roll with Lance’s punches. “Really?”

“You do,” Lance said, placing a confident hand in Keith’s arm. “What am I thinking right now?”

“Huh?” Keith replied, his voice edged with irritation. He shied away from Lance’s touch.

“Tell me what I’m thinking.” Lance put a hand on his hip.

Keith stuffed his hands in his pockets. He seriously debated spending his time staring at the floor instead of interacting with Lance. “Why? You already know what you’re thinking.”

“Keith…” Lance shook his head, exasperated at Keith’s unwillingness to play along. “Just prove my point here.”

“Fine.” Keith studied Lance’s face as they walked beneath an archway. Lance’s eyes flitted through the mall like a piercing blue hummingbird, landing briefly on couples holding hands, chocolate displays, diamond stores-

“You’re thinking about Valentine’s Day,” Keith said. Sure, it was kind of a shot in the dark, but something deep within him responded to Lance’s facial expressions with absolute certainty. Call it instinct.

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner,” Lance said.

Keith cocked a brow. “How do I know you’re not just making that up to prove your point?”

“You don’t know,” said Lance, “but you KNOW.”

Keith hummed. “If this is some psychic bullcrap-”

“-it’s not bullcrap-”

“-i’m not buying it,” he concluded.

“I AM thinking of Valentine’s Day, though,” Lance said.

“Why?” It was just like Lance to like Valentine’s day. He was obsessed with every holiday imaginable. Every morning, he texted Keith a list of that day’s national holidays. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, even waffle day- Lance’s text would roll in like clockwork. Keith had begun to enjoy it. He humored Lance when he begged him to come get a waffle on Waffle Day. Even when he’d later learned Lance had made the holiday up just because he wanted to eat waffles with Keith. They’d looked it up later. The real Waffle Day was August 24th. Lance saved the date. Was this the extent of Lance’s occupation with Valentine’s Day?

Lance’s response took Keith off guard. “Because I’m lonely, idiot.” Lance stared for a moment longer at a display, then his eyes fell to the floor.

Keith was puzzled. “You have friends.” Wasn’t that enough? Keith felt a pang in his chest, one he wasn’t proud of himself for having. It wasn’t fair to resent Lance’s social life.

“It’s not the same,” Lance shrugged.

“But-“ Lance. What he was going through was exactly what Keith was, wasn’t it? The cruel irony here was that Keith felt this way, very specifically, targeted towards Lance, like an arrow aimed to the center. Meanwhile Lance had the fortune to miss an idea, an abstract concept, rather than a person. Very cruel indeed. “I suppose it isn’t.”

A tense silence fell between. It was broken by Lance falling back into his old self, though strained and cracked at the edges. “You get me anything for Valentine’s Day, pumpkin?” He sounded like stained glass, his voice husky and crackling and colorful. 

This time around, Keith was impervious to Lance’s charm. “Please don’t call me that again, assface. And no.”

“Pumpkin and assface. Has a ring to it.” Lance took a moment to process Keith’s lack of generosity. “No present!?” He objected, more than Keith would have imagined justifiable for the situation. “Why not?”

“Um? We’re not exactly dating, buddy,” Keith said, patient, as if explaining it to a child. “Besides, don’t start with me. You didn’t get me one either.”

Lance shifted from plaintive and whiny to challenging. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna buy you a Valentine’s present right now.” He darted his eyes around the stores, clearly assessing which would be the best fit for Keith.

“No,” Keith groaned. “Then I’ll have to buy you one.”

Lance smiled. “That’s the idea.”

“You dick.” Lance knew Keith couldn’t resist a challenge. “Bet I could buy a better present than you.”

Lance scoffed. “You kidding? I live and breathe love. I AM CUPID,” He said. “I’m easily beating you.”

“Yeah?” Keith said, challenging. “Where do you want me to buy yours from? The toy store?”

“Sure,” said Lance, an evil grin unfurling, “If you let me buy yours at Hot Topic.”

“That’s cold,” Keith said. A smile unfurled on his face as he looked down at his all-black outfit.

“You started it,” Lance said, looking radiant. Lance was always at his best when he was challenging Keith. He’d always have THAT face, the one where his lips curled at the edges and his eyes scrunched up and he looked at Keith like he was the only person in the universe (Keith didn’t mind that part much).

It was hard to look away, but Keith managed. “Where to first?”

“I say we split up at the count of three,” Lance beamed. Something danced in his eyes, something Keith couldn’t quite make out. 

The last thing Keith wanted right now was to be alone. He’d only come because of Lance in the first place, and wandering around a toy store filled with screaming children by himself wasn’t the most tantalizing prospect. “Lance. Why do we have to split up?”

“Um, it’s more fun that way? Duh. We can race. Plus I want my beautiful gift from you to be a surprise.” He had no idea why Lance was diving into his competitive side so deeply, but he wasn’t questioning it. If Lance wanted it, Keith would put up with it. 

Keith sighed. “Challenge accepted.”

“On the count of three!” Lance exclaimed, dropping to a knee. Keith mirrored him, inwardly sighing at Lance’s flamboyance and pretending that the stares they received were directed at someone else. “Three...two...one!”

\----

After rushing through the stores, the boys returned to their meeting spot, out of breath.

“I got here first!” Lance jeered, panting.

“Are you blind?” Keith wheezed. He pointed at a skidmark he had left in the floor, as evidence of his words. “It’s obvious I beat you!”

“In your dreams!”

“Whatever you need to say, Lance.”

“You got a good present?” Lance asked. He stretched, releasing tension from the run. His bones cracked in complaint. Keith stared. Lance’s shirt was riding up, just enough to reveal a thin strip of golden brown skin and a waistband. That one open strip winked up at Keith as if fully sentient and aware of how hopelessly enamored he was with Lance.

He shook himself from his stupor. “Um… Hell yeah I do,” said Keith, lifting up his bag in proof.

“Is it a stuffed animal? Board game?” Lance peered at the bag. “Kinda small- Don’t tell me you got a toddler toy. That’s just mean.”

“This isn’t twenty questions,” Keith said, flustered. “Now close your eyes.”

“Hell no!” Lance pouted. “I wanna see it!”

“It’s more dramatic if you close your eyes,” Keith said, rolling his own, and hoping that would disguise the heat spreading across his cheeks. “Isn’t that what you want?” If Lance’s eyes were shut, he wouldn’t see Keith’s expression, and that was a prospect Keith was completely fine with.

“...You got me there.” Lance squeezed his eyes shut. He heard rustling to his left, and flinched.

Keith chuckled deep in his throat. “Dude, chill. I’m just taking it out of the bag.”

“This is torture.”

“Yeah?” Keith’s voice circled Lance. “Maybe I’ll make you wait longer then.” Sure, messing with Lance hadn’t been Keith’s intention, but it was fun, so why the hell not?

Lance’s eyebrows knitted as he fought to keep from opening his eyes. “That’s cruel.”

Keith chuckled at that too, and all Lance could think was that he wanted to play Keith’s laugh over and over again, save it as a ringtone, play it at his own funeral.

Lance felt a tickle on his right shoulder and jumped. “Sorry,” Keith said, not sounding sorry. “That was funny.”

“Can you just give it to me?” Said Lance. It hadn’t taken long to exasperate him.

Keith considered this request. The red had faded enough from his cheeks, he decided. “Fine. Hold out your hands.” Lance obliged, nervous.

“You’re shaking,” Keith said, his voice closer to Lance’s ear than he had imagined. It sent a chill down his spine. “You like presents that much?”

He trembled. “I-”

“Okay,” Keith said, cutting him off. “Here you go.”

Something soft dropped into Lance’s palms. His fingers curled around it. “What is it?”

“Open your eyes, and you’ll see,” Keith prompted.

Lance saw a blur of blue in his palms. He blinked, and the image shifted into a stuffed lion. “How did you manage to find one in blue?” Lance asked. 

“The clearance section is a mysterious place.”

“Am I just clearance section to you?”

“Listen, on my budget, clearance section is like royalty, buddy.” Keith searched Lance’s face, growing self conscious. “Do you like it? I know it’s stupid.” 

“I LOVE it,” Lance said, holding the lion against his chest, as if someone was coming to take her away from him.

“Cool,” Keith said, his shoulders relaxing and face unknitting.

“Now it’s your turn,” Lance said. “Close your eyes.”

Keith shook his head. “I don’t trust you enough to do that.”

“C’mon! Yes you do!”

“Lance…”

“Keith! It’s only fair.”

“I know…” Keith admitted. “Don’t do anything weird.”

“I just wanna see something,” he said, knotting his fingers together.

Keith closed his eyes, his mouth twisted. Cold fingers touched his neck. He recoiled. “Lance! What are you doing?” 

“You’ll see.”

Lance’s fingers played with Keith’s hair. They brushed the base of Keith’s root. He shivered.

“You like when people touch your neck, Mullet?”

“Exactly the opposite,” Keith snarked. He didn’t like how vulnerable and exposed he felt. “I’m opening my eyes now.”

“No, not yet! I’ll hurry up.” Lance’s hands busied themselves in Keith’s hair. Keith felt dread at what this could be. His hair was being tugged every which way. Then, it went still. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Keith found himself face to face with Lance’s phone, the camera on selfie mode. He beheld the monstrosity Lance created.

“A bow?” He blinked.

“A My Chemical Romance bow,” Lance said, looking exceptionally proud of himself.

“Why MCR?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have an MCR phase,” Lance said, grinning.

“I-“ Lance looked at Keith, daring him to continue. “Okay, maybe I did,” Keith admitted. “But I’ll have you know I haven’t listened in years.”

Lance’s grin widened. 

“Okay, months.”

Lance cocked his head to one side, saying nothing.

“Okay, okay! Last week.” Keith raised his hands in defeat.

“Glad to see you’ve come to terms with the truth.”

Keith untied the bow, shaking his head. “You’re really gonna mess with me when I’m vulnerable, huh,” He said.

“I could say the same thing about what you pulled earlier,” Lance said, crossing his arms and looking Keith up and down. “Now we’re even.”

“Remind me to never spend a single Valentine’s Day with you ever again.” Keith pouted, but his eyes sparkled, betraying his thoughts.

Lance picked up on Keith’s cue. “We’ll see about that.”

“What do you wanna do now?”

“I don’t know,” Keith said. “I don’t want to go home.”

Home didn’t feel like much of anything to Keith anymore, besides empty. It’d been so easy to ignore it before. He’d come home and go to bed, and the silence would be a comfort, nestling him. Now it was so silent he’d wondered why he never noticed before. It hurt his ears. He’d taken to falling asleep with his headphones, desperate to block out the painful quiet. 

It was large, empty, and too far removed from his past to not remind him from his past, as much as that didn’t make any sense. It reminded him too much of when he’d struggled to cut every tie, to pretend his childhood never happened, that he was fine. 

Keith didn’t want to go home, because it wasn’t home to him at all.

He felt saying that might darken conversation a bit.

“Cool. I’m hungry,” Lance said. Lance was either entirely oblivious to the war raging on inside Keith, or he was trying hard to appear that he didn’t. Lance was more emotionally sensitive than people gave him credit for. Keith figured it was the latter.

Keith scanned the directory. “Do you like cinnamon rolls?”

“Like?” Lance’s voice raised in pitch. “LIKE?”

Keith turned back to the map. “Forget it.”

“I LOVE cinnamon rolls.” Lance flung an arm over Keith’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

——

They were at the front of the line, ordering their food, when they were interrupted by the worker, a girl with curious brown eyes and a ponytail pulled tight.

“You two are so cute together,” she said, staring at them. “Sorry if that’s creepy.” She looked down, acutely aware of her invasion into their privacy, her hair sweeping over her shoulder and into her face.

“What- wait- no, no, no,” Keith said, waving his hand. “We aren’t together.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Uh. Sorry,” she squeaked, looking mortified. The blood drained out of her cheeks. Keith thought she was pretty cute, from an aesthetic standpoint at least. He looked to Lance, trying to gauge his reaction to her.

Lance’s face, impressively, was unreadable, a blank slate which contrasted with his usual friendly demeanor.

“It’s no problem,” Keith said, turning back to the girl. 

“Here’s your cinnamon rolls. And a napkin,” she said, handing it to him.

“Oh- thanks.” There were napkin dispensers at every table in the restaurant. Why would she specifically need to hand him one? Keith was puzzled. He chalked it up to some weird local custom.

He found Lance, sitting slumped over in a booth, and sat across from him, still unsettled by what the girl said. She’d indirectly voiced all of Keith’s desires in one question. He was unwittingly stripped of all of his emotional armor by a girl who didn’t mean anything but a passing compliment. He felt exposed. Yes, he wished he and Lance were dating. He thought about it far too often.

“Keith, look,” Lance said, passing his phone across the table. Keith mustered a snort at the meme, quickly passing the phone back. He was too distracted to find it funny.

“That’s a pity laugh,” Lance said. “That’s a my-friend-showed-me-this-so-I-have-to-laugh laugh.”

“It was funny.”

“Hm.” Lance tapped his face with his fingers, surveying Keith.

“What do you mean, hm?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lance said, airy. He opened the bag and pulled out a cinnamon roll. He passed it to Keith. “Here you go. Sugar.”

“Don’t call me sugar.”

“Um, I didn’t. I was offering YOU sugar,” Lance said. “Clearly you need some, Grumpy.”

“Sure.”

“And yes, I was calling you Grumpy that time.”

“Whatever.” Keith chomped into his roll, temporarily forgetting Lance as the taste flooded into his mouth. Soon he’d gone through two, and he sat back, stomach full and fingers sticky.

Lance was shocked at Keith’s speed, still in the middle of his first. “You eat too fast.”

“You eat too slow,” Keith retorted. He went to wipe his fingers with his napkin, and upon withdrawing, saw black smeared on his fingers. He unfurled to reveal a phone number written in black ink.

“Oh shit. Lance, look.” Keith chuckled and slid the napkin across the table. “I feel bad. Should I tell her I’m gay?”

Lance’s face fell as he scanned the napkin. He looked at Keith, his eyes blank. “Whatever you want to do,” he said, returning to his roll.

Keith was expecting a different reaction from Lance. It was the complete opposite of the way Lance usually acted: lighthearted, carefree. “Hey, what’s the problem?”

Lance rolled his eyes and stabbed at his cinnamon roll with a fork. “If you’re such a lady killer, you can figure out what to do.”

“Clearly I’m not.” So it was a jealousy issue. Keith was bewildered at how, no matter how much they’d talked about it, Lance was convinced Keith was a womanizer. How many times did he have to affirm his sexuality before Lance calmed down about it? It hurt to have the boy he was obsessed with accuse him of messing around with women.

“It’s just annoying.” Lance wouldn’t meet Keith’s eyes. He picked his napkin apart. His face was flushed.

Keith’s stomach was on the floor. “You like her, don’t you?”

“No!” Lance said vehemently, crinkling his napkin pieces and nearly upsetting his coffee. He grabbed it and took a long sip, trying to hide his face.

Keith was infuriated. As far as he was concerned, if Lance didn’t like the girl, he had no reason to be pissy. “Then chill out and eat your cinnamon roll. Damn.”

Lance, still fuming, knowing how perfectly irrational he was being and how perfectly rational his irritation felt, picked up his roll and took a bite.

“Good, right?”

“Yeah.” Lance licked his lips, becoming less angry, in spite of himself. How could he be annoyed when Keith was sitting there? It wasn’t fair to be mad at him for getting a number, anyhow.

“Were you hangry or something?” Keith studied Lance, a queer look in his dark eyes.

“No,” Lance sighed. “Sorry. I was just being stupid.”

“Okay,” Keith snorted, still puzzled.

Keith didn’t want to say it, but Lance’s concern hurt. It hurt even more that there was no explanation. Worst case scenario, Lance was jealous of Keith’s apparent womanizing ability (a jealousy which was completely unfounded). Best case scenario, Lance was jealous of the girl. Which meant he liked Keith. Which was way too much of a best case scenario to possibly be true.

Keith realized he had been spacing out in Lance’s direction for too long. He scrambled for an explanation, because anything was better than saying “oh, I’ve just been obsessing over the depth of our friendship. Nice hair, by the way.”

“You have frosting on your cheek,” He said.

“Really?” Lance said, touching his face in concern. He lowered his hand, a smirk blooming on his lips. “Then lick it off.”

Keith froze. Lance had been flirting with him all day. What if, and that was a huge WHAT IF, he’d caught on to Keith’s crush? What if he was messing with him?

No. If there was anything that was Lance’s brand, it was flirting with anybody and everybody. That was nothing. This was how he treated everyone else, Keith reasoned.

Lance was a mind reader. Because Keith really did want to lick it off.

Keith flushed. “Shut up.”

“Hey man, just a suggestion,” Lance leaned forward, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Keith responded by throwing a napkin in Lance’s face. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Lance muttered, leaning back, disappointed. He pet his cheek. “Is it gone?”

“No. A little to the left.”

Lance obliged, purposefully moving just a little bit too far left. “Now is it gone?”

“No, it’s-“ Keith pointed, and Lance moved his hand even further left. “Ugh. Let me get it.” Keith grabbed the napkin.

The closer he got to Lance’s face, the more he wanted to set his hand on fire. He dragged the napkin across the spot, as quickly as possible. He withdrew his hand in a hurry.

“Jeez, Keith,” Lance said, gingerly rubbing his cheek. “I think I got roadburn.”

“It’s gone, though,” Keith said, “Isn’t it?”

“You know you can tell me if anything is bothering you, right?” Lance said, spitting out what had been bothering him the entire day. He’d noticed Keith avoiding his eyes, falling beside his side more often, letting Lance act how he wanted, when usually he fought Lance tooth and nail. Lance missed that.

“Where did that come fr-“

“I just wanted you to know.” Lance wanted to reach out and touch Keith, the boy who looked so slim and far away and wavering, as if he were some mirage on a desert road.

If Lance was reaching out to Keith like this, no matter how much context was lacking, it must have been a sign he cared. Keith swallowed the witty retorts that rose to his brain. “Thanks,” He said.

Lance followed his instinct put his hand over Keith’s. His heart was beating furiously. It was deafening, in fact. It felt like everyone in the food court could hear it, were laughing and watching Lance be a lovesick fool. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered.

Keith glanced over to the bakery. The girl was watching them. She looked disappointed. He returned his gaze to Lance. His cheeks were splotched with pink. Were those freckles? 

He knew that. He knew Lance had freckles. Keith’s thoughts were spotty, and everything seemed so new. It felt like a baptism.Could the fluorescent lights of the mall and the warmth of Lance’s be classified as holy water? 

Lance’s fingers curled over Keith’s as if cupping him down, keeping him grounded. He rotated his palm so he could interlace his fingers with Lance’s.

Keith didn’t know much about relationships, but he did know this wasn’t in friend territory.

He gave his hand the slightest squeeze, pretending he was passing his heartbeat into Lance. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” He said.

——

2/15  
Lance is the most dense person on the planet. With density comes impenetrability. I can’t crack him. He’s always got this mask on, like he’s this happy-go-lucky boy and nothing ever goes wrong for him, and he’s untouchable. I know it’s not true, because I’ve seen it come off. So why is he pretending again? I thought he trusted me.

And he acts like I’m such a puzzle. I’m not the one doing confusing shit all the time and acting like nothing happened.

Maybe it doesn’t matter to him the way I want it to. That really scares me. I can’t imagine what would happen to me if that were true.

I’ve been worrying about the future a lot lately. I got a letter in the mail from Zarkon yesterday. Apparently I have a full ride to Garrison University. I’m pretty sure it’s a bribe to keep me quiet about the whole Lotor thing. 

It’s supposed to be a merit scholarship. I was going to compete for it. Now it just got handed over to me, and why? Because we pulled a cheap trick with some tapes? I feel cheap. I feel like I didn’t earn it. I know, I know, I should just be grateful. It’s ridiculous for me to be sitting here worrying about HOW I got the money. 

It’s great, though. I was probably gonna end up there, but now the decision is made for me. No stress.

That at least should make me happy, but I still feel uneasy. No thanks to Lance for making me feel better in that department.

-Keith.

“Keith? Hello?” A hand waved before Keith’s face. He resisted the urge to yawn. “You listening to me?”

“What?” Keith responded, a bit more harshly than intended.

“I can’t believe it,” Shiro said. “You weren’t even listening.”

“And on such an important matter,” Allura agreed.

“Sorry,” Keith said, sheepish. “What is it?”

Shiro perked up again. “You won’t believe it,” He said. “We got an anonymous donation yesterday, and it’s-“

“Don’t say the number!” Allura said, flushing.

“-it’s a LOT.”

“Two guesses who it’s from,” Keith said, taking off his backpack.

“A mysterious benefactor?”

“Zarkon. He’s paying all of us off. I got a “talent scholarship” to GU yesterday.”

“Keith! That’s wonderful!” Shiro cried, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked proud. 

“I guess,” Keith said, downtrodden.

Allura put her hand on his arm, sympathetic. “What’s the matter, Keith?”

“It’s nothing, just…” Allura tightened her grasp on Keith, peering at him. “I wanted to earn it.”

“I see.”

“It doesn’t matter. I might not even go. I’d rather get in somewhere on my own.”

“Keith, listen,” said Shiro, sinking into the chair opposite Keith. “You may have gotten this because of the Zarkon stuff, you may not have. But you are one of the most talented young people I’ve met and you can’t throw something like this away.”

“I guess.”

“You would have gotten a scholarship on your own,” Allura added. “I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah.” Keith said. As much as he wanted to pretend their words had no effect, he was feeling better.

Shiro reached out and ruffled Keith’s hair. “Cheer up. You should be proud of yourself.”

“You sound like a dad,” Keith said, pushing Shiro’s hand away and cracking a smile.

“Good.”

“Aren’t there some books for you to go organize or something?”

“Oh yeah!” Shiro hopped up. “I’ve got new books to order!” He retreated to the back, excited.

“He cares about you a lot,” Allura said, leaning her hand on her palm and smiling at Keith. “You’re lucky to have someone like him.”

“You’re right,” Keith said. “I am.”

“You know,” Allura said, “it’s great you have Shiro. But I’ve been glad to see you finding new friends.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” Keith said, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“Make sure you don’t hold yourself back.”

“What?” Keith laughed. “From what? I’m not.”

“Okay.” Allura looked at him for one second more, then turned back to her desk, shaking her head.  
A minute later, she said, meeting his eyes directly with her steely blue gaze, “No, not okay. You’re in love with Lance.”

“Love is a strong word.”

“But you didn’t deny it,” she said.

“Well,” Keith began. 

She cut him off. “Keith. You don’t need to be scared.”

“How?” Keith asked, his voice becoming plaintive, childlike. “How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you two. I know.”

“I hope so,” Keith said, wilting.

“This is really bothering you,” she said.

And Keith let himself go, the weight pouring off his shoulders and out his mouth.“I’m going to prom with him, for God’s sake. Allura, it’s so hard.” His eyes burned and he choked on his words.

Allura asked, her voice soft, “Are you crying?” 

“No!” He protested. A tear slipped from his eye. And she was on him in a moment, wrapping her arms around Keith.

He let her hold him. Allura smelled like strawberries. He inhaled.

Lance. Lance. Lance. The thought of Lance terrified him, and yet he kept returning to it, like checking a burner when he knew it was off, or a tongue returning to a hole where a tooth once was. Lance. There was nothing to lose. There was everything to lose.

He’d lose Lance’s smiles. His touches. The outdated memes Lance sent him over text. He’d lose his mall dates, his cinnamon rolls, his Sonic, his sunny afternoons sitting up on a tree branch, above the world, seeing it clearly from so far above.

Keith liked that, seeing the world from far away. Nothing could sneak up on him. He was prepared. That’s when the epiphany struck.

Keith was scared of the future. He recognized that now. That’s why he was scared of Lance. That’s why he was scared of going to college. So much changed in Keith’s life before that it had become a constant. Now, he had stability, and that was about to be ripped away from him again.

But it didn’t have to be. Again he thought of Lance. Lance. Lance. The main thing standing in his way, and yet Lance was his way. 

What was there to be scared of? Either way, Lance would understand. Did Keith really trust Lance so little as to think he’d abandon him after a confession gone wrong? No. He was a better person than that. That was the boy he loved.

Lance, Lance, Lance. He was going to tell Lance.

He couldn’t do it now. Lance had looked forward to prom all year. If things went south, as much as Keith didn’t want to think about it, he wanted Lance to have that night as a good memory.

After prom, he decided. He’d tell Lance he loved him after prom.

That decision was what he needed. Keith took a calming, shuddering breath.

Keith wiped his eyes. “You should be a therapist.”

“Thanks,” Allura said, drawing away. 

“No, thank you. I know what to do now.”

“For college?” Of course, Allura, wily as always, was forcing Keith to say it himself.

“Yes. And Lance.”

She nodded. “Good. Now, I’m going to see what’s been keeping Shiro for so long.”

“Go ahead.”

Allura left, briefly placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as she passed.

Keith felt whole again. He had a plan.


	8. A Chapter is Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one chapter ends, another begins.

Lance carefully spread gel into his hair, relishing the way his brown hair shone in the light. He winked at himself in the mirror. This elicited a groan behind him, as Keith sprawled backward on Lance’s bed. “It’s the big day,” He said, adjusting his tie. “How you feeling?”

“Weird.” Keith rolled over, tapping the wall absentmindedly and examining Lance’s NASA poster.

Lance turned to Keith, still pulling at his tie. “Stupid thing won’t lay flat!” He cursed, and sheepishly met Keith’s eye. “Are you ready?”

“You make it sound like a wedding.”

“Uh, yeah!” Lance said, bewildered that Keith didn’t place the same importance on prom as he did. “You’re marrying your social life.”

He shrugged. “That left me at the altar months ago.”

“Stop! It hurts to laugh,” Lance snorted, pulling on his collar.

Keith gave Lance a once over, his eye quickly discerning the problem. Lance’s adam’s apple was disappearing within the tight pressure of his blue tie, turning bright red in a call for help. “That’s because your tie is too tight.”

“No!” Lance coughed, turning away from Keith defensively, and doubling his efforts to pull his collar open. “I did my tie perfectly!”

“Lance.”

“Keith.”

“Let me fix it,” Keith said, rising from the bed and moving towards Lance.

Lance backed towards his closet, covering his throat with his hands. “Nooooooo!” He didn’t like the idea of how vulnerable he’d feel, standing there while Keith fixed his tie. There was also no way he was admitting to Keith that he ever did anything wrong. 

“Fine,” He said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Guess you’ll choke to death.”

Lance didn’t care for Keith’s tone. “Like you’re such a menswear expert! Your pants are all wrinkly!” He gestured to Keith’s pants, which were indeed wrinkly.

“I don’t own an iron.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Lance said, crossing his arms, and confident now that Keith didn’t have the upper hand. He was also desperate to loosen his tie, which was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute. “Take your pants off and I’ll let you fix my tie.”

“Damn Lance, even for you that’s a little forward.” Keith waved his hand, indicating to Lance that he was kidding, and dropped his pants.

“Your legs are skinny,” Lance said, laughing at Keith’s thin, pasty legs.

“Yours aren’t that great either, dude,” Keith said, wanting to hide his legs from Lance’s stupid grin. “Just-“ He threw his pants at Lance’s head- “iron them.”

Lance laughed. He busied himself ironing Keith’s pants, desperately trying not to think about Keith standing there, entirely pantsless. He hated his mind sometimes. He really did.

“Done,” Lance said, holding up the pants.

Keith pounced on Lance. “Alright, take this tie off- Jesus, Lance, what did you do, this knot is awful- here we go.” He produced it victoriously. Lance dipped closer, letting Keith tie it around his collar.

“There,” Keith said, looking up into Lance’s eyes with a tender smile. “You’re ready.” He turned to leave the room.

Lance stood, gaping at Keith.

“You coming?” He fixed Lance with an impatient stare.

“Uh, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not wearing your pants.”

——

They just barely evaded Lance’s mother, which Lance said was probably for the better, because they didn’t have an hour to waste with small talk. Her face popped up in the kitchen window as they reached Hunk’s car, and Lance stiffened, expecting to get called inside, but was met with a wave and a single kiss blown across the lawn.

“What up, losers,” Pidge said, craning her neck to watch them scramble into the backseat.

“I’m surprised to see you in the front, Pidge?” Lance asked, squinting, as if his eyes were deceiving him, or he was staring into a particularly bright light. 

“Yeah, don’t you need a booster seat or something?” Keith chimed in.

“Hah, good one Keith,” Hunk said.

Pidge angrily eyed Hunk, looking not entirely unlike a pissed off raccoon. He turned his attention to the wheel, in fear of her wrath. “If I break your arms, you won’t be able to drive.”

“Guess you’re walking.” Hunk shrugged, pulling away from the curb.

“With those stubby legs?” Keith laughed.

“It’d take her a week to even get to the school!” Lance howled.

“You guys-“ Pidge started. Upon seeing Keith and Lance in the back, slung over each other, all long limbs and smiles, and NOT bickering with each other for once, she paused. Deciding to go easy on them while asserting her dominance, she shot one intense glare at the pair through the side mirror. “The next one to make a short joke is getting tossed on the highway.”

“About that,” Keith said.

“Don’t even try it!”

“No!” Keith said, placating her. “I was just wondering if we could go to my house real quick.”

“And… why?”

“Because I…” Keith mumbled the rest of the sentence as quickly as possible before they could make it out.

“Uh… come again?” Lance asked.

“I said I want to go to prom on my motorcycle!” Keith snapped, then sunk back in his seat, looking surly, embarrassed, and well aware of how childish the request was. He knew it was simple sentimental, but Lance gave him that motorcycle, and he wanted to take him to prom on it. He desperately hoped Lance wouldn’t put two and two together on that front, and would chalk it up to Keith being unnecessarily flashy.

Hunk’s voice filled the void left behind, as gushy and enthusiastic as ever. Keith was thankful for the interjection. “Dude… that’s so cute,” Hunk said. 

“No way!” Lance gestured to his suit, indignant. “Our clothes’ll get dirty! And I just ironed your pants.” Despite his words, his tone wavered. Keith knew Lance had a flair for the dramatic, and asking just one more time would likely push him over the edge.

“Come on, Lance.” Keith nudged him and gave a knowing smile. “You like riding on Red.”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“We’ll look SO cool.”

“You better have a dust jacket,” Lance acquiesced, leaning slightly on Keith to show his support. “And pants.”

“You’ll be the best biker couple in the whole school,” Hunk sighed, gazing dreamily at the road.

“Is there a competition for that?”

Keith pat Lance’s shoulder. “There is now.” They pulled up on his driveway.

——

Keith felt free- wind flying through his hair, licking the side of his face, the sun pressing its face into his back- and the only thing anchoring him to earth was Lance.

Who was currently screaming and clinging to Keith’s back. “You’re speeding! You’re speeding!” He howled.

“What? No I’m not!” Keith checked the speedometer. Yes, he was. He eased up on the gas. “Sorry!”

But Lance’s attention had been diverted elsewhere. “Look at that,” he said. Keith followed his eyes to the sky adjoining the highway.

It was sunset. Soft pinks, oranges, and yellows blended together, just barely making contact with the ground at the horizon, as if kissing the earth. 

“Nice,” Keith said. He felt simple and ineffectual saying that, but what else was there to say?

“Yeah, nice,” Lance sighed. His hands softened around Keith’s midriff.

They were at the school far before they’d estimated they’d be (likely because of Keith’s irresponsible speeding). He wished he’d taken that extra time and pulled over to the side of the road and watched the sunset with Lance. 

Speaking of Lance, he stood before the door with an almost holy look of exultation on his face.

“Let’s get this party started,” he said, flinging the doors open, and pausing there, as if expecting thunderous applause. He was met with the standard whoops and cheers that happened every five seconds at prom. It was enough for him. “Come on, Keith. We’re definitely the best dressed couple here-“ Lance gasped. “Keith! Your hair! It’s awful!”

It was indeed awful. The natural result upon mixing long hair and thirty miles per hour on a motorcycle was chaos. He pinched at a single strand and pulled on it, wondering how he could unwind the bird’s nest that now resided on his head.

“Let me fix it,” Lance said, descending on Keith like a mother hen and picking at his hair.

“Guys, how’d you get here so early? And-“ Pidge paused, looking aghast at the sight of them. 

“Lance, you look like a chimp searching for bugs,” said Hunk.

“Shut up, Hunk, I’m just trying to fix this idiot’s hair.”

“Looks fine to me.”

“Yeah, it does NOW,” Lance said, stepping away from Keith and surveying the neatly arranged hair. “Much better. Though it would be easier for you if you just got a haircut.”

“Maybe if you stopped nagging me, I would.”

“Well,” Hunk said, calmly interjecting. “Let’s go.”

Wading into a crowd was just as overwhelming as Keith remembered it being. The heat, the pressure from all sides, the sensation of being digested by the people around you, pressed in and turning to rock. He swallowed his pride. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge were all getting further ahead the longer they spent in the crowd, and if he wasn’t brave, he’d be lost.

Keith reached out and grabbed onto Lance’s hand. “Buddy system,” he said.

Lance squeezed his hand in response. “Buddy system.”

“They’ve got punch!” Hunk crowed, bustling towards the refreshments table.

“Nonalcoholic, don’t worry,” Lance said, shooting a wink at Keith.

He scowled.

“I’m gonna-“ Pidge said, the remainder of her sentence choked off by the screams of the students as a Drake song came on. At least Keith thought it was Drake. They all sounded the same to him. He wasn’t sure what all the screaming and fuss was about.

“WHAT?”

“I. SAID. IM. STAYING. HERE. I. WANNA. DANCE.”

“Got it!” Lance said. He offered her a thumbs up and turned to Keith. “She said I want to pants. Whatever that means.”

Keith resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. He liked Lance far, far too much. His face was illuminated by what little light there was, although dimly, and every dramatic slope and point to his face was caught and held fast by the glow. Lance’s eyes shone. He looked alive. 

And, just a bit, just by looking at Lance, Keith did too.

“Come on, let’s follow Hunk. You want punch?” Lance said, his every word punctuated by the beat of the music. He squinted over at Keith. The red, hazy light of the light took hold of Keith’s every expression in a way that was unforgettable. And normal Keith was pretty damn hard to forget. This light was what being drunk on Keith must feel like.

They staggered over to the table, dodging the particularly furious dance moves of a young man who had dropped to the floor and begun to breakdance. Not very well, but it was an effort. Keith wasn’t even sure whether the poor kid was trying to breakdance or do the worm.

“Two cups, please,” Lance said to the tired attendant, a teacher who looked to be in his mid-forties and was definitely sick and tired of volunteering at proms by about five years ago.

“Only one cup left,” they said, shrugging. “You guys should’ve got here faster. First come, first serve.” He wiped beneath his nose with a greasy finger, and Keith was very glad the station was self serving.

Keith had but an instant to think of how similar to a rom-com this scenario was (only one cup, no options left but to share, forcing two people to come together) before Lance was picking up the cup, filling it with punch, and bringing it to his lips.

“Lance, I can hold a cup myself- BLARGH.” Keith drank the punch. It was a standard, nondescript sugary taste, likely coming from boxes of powder meant to taste like fruit and coming nowhere near that ideal. It was kind of disgusting.

Lance was holding it to his lips. Best thing he’d ever drank.

A familiar song came on, at least Keith was sure he’d heard it at least once. Lance’s eyes widened above the rim of the cup and he downed the remainder of the punch.

“APPLE BOTTOM JEANS!”

Keith groaned. He had heard this one before. From Lance.

Lance swayed towards Keith, a familiar and irritating look on his face that Keith didn’t like, not one bit. “C’mon, Keith! Apple bottom jeans-“ 

“Lance, no-“

And then his hands were in Lance’s and he was being dragged to the middle of the dance floor. As much as Keith hated dancing, he loved Lance’s hands on his and having his full attention and being the only one on the dance floor Lance wanted to be with.

“Say it with me-“ Lance flung his arms. “BOOTS WITH THE FUR!” 

“THE FUR!” the crowd responded.

“C’mon Keith, sing it!” Lance said, strutting circles around Keith.

“Lance!” Keith stifled a giggle. “I don’t want to!”

“SHE HIT THE FLOOR!” Lance popped a squat, right before Keith’s eyes, and Keith couldn’t hold back his laughter. “There you go!” Lance screamed, triumphant.

“Now do it with me- shawty got low-“ Lance began to slowly drop it to the floor- and Keith followed.

“Low, low, low, low, low, low,” Keith sang, somewhat hesitant.

“YES!”

Everything was a blur and Keith felt there wasn’t time to breathe, but in the best possible way. Lance’s cologne wrapped two hands around his throat and squeezed, and if he wasn’t careful, it’d pull him into his arms. The dance floor was spinning, and Lance kept him anchored to the floor. Keith was engrossed in his feet, trying to ensure he wouldn’t make a fool of himself, and he heard a silver laugh.

And Lance looked at him, his eyes sparkling, and gave Keith one of those genuine Lance-patented smiles that made him feel like the most worthwhile person in the universe.

The moment was more short lived than Keith wanted. It didn’t take long for Lance’s attention to be diverted elsewhere.

“Oh shit! A dance circle!” Lance said, craning his neck to see. A hand took hold of his shoulder, and he yelped as he was dragged into the circle.

“Lance!” It was just like the party, just like the last time Lance was pulled away from him. Keith jostled his way to the front, alarmed. Instead, he was met with the sight of his life: Lance in a dance battle.

The dance move was ridiculous, but damn if Lance wasn’t doing a good job.

Lance pulled up to a standing position and began to execute a series of steps, breaking and popping in a way Keith hadn’t known Lance was capable of. He was intimately familiar with Goofy Lance: he’d seen Lance dancing around to Beyonce more times than he could count. Cool Lance was a different matter entirely.

Keith caught Lance’s eye. He winked.

Across the dance floor, Hunk and a girl were slow dancing. How they managed it to hip hop was a mystery, but they managed it all the same. She was taller than him, although only slightly, and she had a shy, demure look to her. Perfect for Hunk. Keith smiled. He was glad Hunk was happy.

The real question was where Pidge went. Keith scammed the dance floor, trying to pick out the telltale puffy brown hair. No luck. Then, the song changed, and his eyes darted to the DJ. 

Pidge had taken control of the music, and-

“Somebody once told me the world was gonna roll me-“

A collective groan spread across the room, met with a opposing and deafening cheer.

“I LOVE ALL STAR!” Lance screamed, and launched himself into a furious series of moves.

Keith laughed, watching Lance in that dance circle, spinning around, with absolutely no idea how to match the prowess of the breakdancer beside him, and not caring. He was completely and utterly free.

A hand landed on Keith’s shoulder. He turned.

A tall boy stood there, looking uncertain. “Hey, Keith is it?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So you’re the red motorcycle in the parking lot?” 

“Yeah?”

“I… uh… you should go check on that,” The boy said, and shifted into the dancing crowd, bobbing up and down to their rhythm. 

“Shit,” Keith said. He extricated himself from the throng, hardly caring who he bumped into, and bolted.

Lance exited the dance circle, eagerly searching the faces. “Keith, did you see that- Keith?”

“I think he left,” a girl said, briefly ceasing her dancing to reply. She stared at him a little too long.

“Thanks,” He said, pointedly looking away. He shoved through the crowd, muttering apologies, and ran to the parking lot.

Keith was at their parking spot, standing completely still. From a distance, it was like nothing was wrong. Up close, it was like everything was wrong. 

Red was ruined. Her paint was scratched. Everything that was breakable was broken. There was glass littering the asphalt. Her tires were empty. She lay on her side, shattered, almost defeated. Keith’s reflection in her chrome was blurry, as if Lance was seeing it through tears. Lance looked up.

“Keith,” Lance said. “We’ll figure it out. We can fix it.” His words felt futile, meaningless. They faded as they came out, and dropped to the ground, entire at home with the mosaic of shattered glass.

“There’s no point,” Keith said, numb. “She can’t be fixed.”

“Keith- hey, look at me- Keith.” Keith’s eyes met his. They were tired. Lance felt a pang in his chest, that Keith had to be so tired. He was always tired. He wanted to reach out and wipe away the smudges under his eyes, and pull him close.

“What?”

“I-Hunk and Pidge and I, we can fix it up,” Lance said, searching for the right combination of words which would make Keith feel better. “You can too, even.”

“Why?” Keith said, flatly.

“Because!” Lance said. “There’s no point in just giving up.”

“Lotor’ll just fuck it up again.” This wasn’t Keith. Keith was full of fire, full of fight; Lotor was trying to crush that out of him. Lance wasn’t standing idly by and watch it happen. He wanted Keith to return to his old, grudgingly happy self, which emerged in bits and flashes only to disappear again. It wasn’t going anywhere.

“Not after tonight he won’t,” said Lance, taking out his phone. He snapped a few pictures of Red in quick succession, walking around to get every possible angle. He wanted to make sure there was no way Lotor could slime his way out of this one.

“What are you-“ Keith’s speech slowed as his bleary eyes focused on the phone. “Evidence?” He breathed.

“Exactly.”

“Further evidence won’t be necessary,” Pidge called, loping towards them, Hunk a step behind her. She waved a single tape in the air. “Lotor, in all his infinite wisdom, seems to have forgotten that this parking lot is under surveillance. That, or he didn’t care.”

“Why would he?” Keith grumbled. “No one else does.”

“We were able to do something,” Lance said. 

“I remember learning something in class with him about poking hornet’s nests,” Keith said. “ All we did was make it worse.”

Lance kneeled besides Keith, wincing inwardly as he thought of the dusty asphalt marking up his pants. But Keith was more important than all that. “It was the only option we had, man.”

“Blackmail was a pretty bad option.” Keith rested his head between his knees. His exhaustion went far past physical. Lotor had been playing his mind games for far too long. He wished he’d never stooped to that level. Lotor was used to playing on that level, and he was good at it. Keith wasn’t. He was tired of playing at all. 

“Look, I know this is stressful,” Hunk said, his voice soothing, “But we have a pretty solid game plan this time around.”

“The school’s accountable to it now, legally,” said Pidge. “There’s no way Lotor can get around this one.” She pulled out her phone. 

“What are you doing?” Keith asked, looking nervous. He was shaking, Lance noted, despite his attempts to contain it.

“Calling the police.” She looked to Lance. “You guys can go. I’ll handle this. Go have fun.”

“Pidge…” Lance said, touched.

“Shut up, just go. You guys would just complicate things, anyways.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Hunk said.

“No. I saw you and Shay out there,” she smirked. “I want you to have tonight, bud. Without me tagging along.”

“Pidge!” He exclaimed, tears in his eyes. He encircled her in a bear hug, nearly lifting her off the ground.

“GUYS!” She yelled and struggled. “Stop making a big deal out of it and go!”

“Okay!” Hunk said, and wiped his eyes.

——

They stood before the front door. “Okay.”

“After you.”

“No, after you.”

“What time even is it?”

“It’s-“ Lance checked his phone. “Past twelve‘o’ clock.”

“It’s closed.”

“What? Really?” Lance pulled on the door, to no avail. It was locked. “You’re right,” He said. “It’s closed for the night. Sorry, I’m stupid.”

“Wait,” Keith said. “No, you’re not. Let’s go in.”

“I just said it’s closed,” Lance laughed, teasingly. “Are you the stupid one?”

“Guys,” Hunk said. “I hate to ditch you guys, but Shay asked me to meet her at post prom-“

“Oh,” Keith said. “So that’s the girl you were all over today.”

Hunk sputtered. “Not all over- I would never-“

“Don’t worry about it, Hunk,” Lance said. “Go have fun. Tell her I say hi!”

Pidge was still by Red, deep in a heated conversation on the phone. “What about Pidge?” 

“Her house is literally a block from here,” Hunk said. “She’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Keith said. “Have fun out there, dude.”

“Good night, Hunk!” Lance yelled.

“Not so loud, Lance! See you guys around.” Hunk walked across the parking lot to his car, and then it was just Keith and Lance.

“Well, let’s go,” Keith said, resuming his previous train of thought.

“...Where? Exactly?”

“Inside the school! I already said that earlier!”

“And I told you it’s locked- Wait. Keith.” Lance glared at Keith, who now bore a grin far too similar to Lance’s when he stirred up trouble.“No way. You want to break in?”

“Well, that’s a pretty inelegant way to put it. But yes.”

Lance rubbed his neck. “What if we get caught?”

Keith shrugged, looking happy again. “Doesn’t that make it more exciting?”

“Wow, Keith. That’s hot.”

Keith crossed his arms, attempting to ignore the alarm bells going off in his head (hot! Hot! HOT!) “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Follow me.”

They circled the school, approaching the back. They stepped over discarded homework assignments and rancid cartons of milk. Beside the dumpsters, a ladder led to the roof. Keith took hold of the ladder and began to scale it. Lance paused.

“You coming?” Keith asked.

“I…” Lance breathed. “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Well, come on then.”

Lance followed Keith up. On the roof, it felt like the sky was watching Lance. It felt like the universe was watching them, in a totally non-creepy way, and more of a guardian-angel sort of way. Keith’s lithe frame slid over to the rooftop door, and gave an experimental yank.

“Shit.” Keith kicked at the door. “It’s locked.”

“Up here is fine.”

“A roof? What are we gonna do?”

“It’s prom,” Lance said. “You figure it out, date.”

“Wh-“ Keith dipped his head in exasperation. “You wanna dance?”

“It’s prom,” Lance said. “Humor me. You are my date, after all.”

“There’s no music,” he pointed out.

“There’s always the stars.”

“Okay, Robert Frost.”

After a minute of silence, Lance decided the stars weren’t enough. “Hold on.” Lance tapped at his phone, and soft music began to play. He stepped towards Keith, closing the distance between them. His hands softly cradled Keith’s waist.

Keith was nervous. He lifted his hands, then dropped them, in a continuous cycle of confusion and inaction. “Where do I put my hands?” He finally asked.

“On my shoulders.”

Keith was irritated. “Then why are yours on my waist?” 

“That’s how slow dancing works. The follower and the leader put their hands on different spots.

“Oh.” Keith’s pride stung, as he realized he wasn’t the leader. “Well, how come I can’t put MY hands on YOUR waist?”

“Because that’s not the way it works!”

“Why not?”

“Because- you know what, if you want to do that, then fine.” They’d make a ridiculous mirror image. He hoped Keith knew that.

Slowly, shyly, Keith touched Lance’s upper back.

“A little lower,” Lance said.

And that’s how Keith and Lance ended up rotating slowly around a rooftop, their hands on each other’s waists, strains of tinny piano floating into the night.

Lance resisted the urge to hold Keith tighter. “It’s beautiful. The stars, I mean.”

“I know. They are.” Keith dropped his head onto Lance’s shoulder. Lance paused, fearful that if he moved, Keith would pull away, and the moment would be over. “What are you doing, idiot? Keep dancing.”

“Oh.”

“When I was a kid…” Keith whispered. 

“Why are you so quiet? There’s no one here but us.”

“It’s a quiet moment,” he replied, soft. “I used to watch the stars. I used to dream I’d be up there. I wondered the other day, why I was so obsessed with them.”

“Why?”

“It’s cheesy.”

“I love cheese,” Lance said, comforting.

“Fine. It’s just- I- Stars are always there for you.” Lance saw a flicker of the child Keith as he said that, bruised and bare and heartbroken. He ached for him.

“I bet you could go up there. You’re smart enough.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d root for you. But…” Lance was scared that day would come. The reality was growing closer and closer. Keith was “gifted” in a way that Lance wasn’t. He could leave, to some faraway Ivy League school, leaving Lance in the dust, staring after Keith as he took off.

It was a reality he couldn’t face.

“Lance?”

“Then you’d have to leave,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, matching Keith’s.

“It was a stupid childhood dream,” Keith said, waving a hand as if to dispel the very notion. “I’m not going anywhere. Look, Lance…”

“What?”

“No, nothing.”

“You said “Look, Lance…”

“I said it’s nothing.” The air settled between them. The songs switched, from a calming piano medley to the familiar strains of- Britney Spears?

“Oh shit, I put it on shuffle. Sorry.” Lance went to grab his phone. Keith tightened his arms around Lance’s waist, holding him in place.

“Leave it,” Keith said.

“You wanna slow dance to Toxic?”

“If Hunk and Shay managed it earlier, we can manage it now.”

“I love you, man,” Lance said, and flung his arms around Keith’s neck; An open concession that Keith had not expected. He repositioned his hands on Lance’s waist, feeling the top of his hip bones, wondering, as he perpetually did, what the pauses between words meant. Silence held more than words- they had space for the weight.

“Keith,” Lance breath hitched. He collected himself, and began again. “I’m glad I met you.”

Keith chuckled. “Where did that come from?”

“Nowhere. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

“Me too, Lance. I’m happy too.”

The stars shone and rotated around, slow but constant, and Keith and Lance were at a standstill, wrapped around each other, as if they were gravity, anchoring each other to the earth.

\----

“Keith?”

“Mm?” Keith said. He swayed on the spot. It was clear he was sleepy.

Lance pulled his arms from his neck, hearing his bones pop, having stayed in one spot for too long. “We should probably go home.”

“You’re right.” And Keith’s eyes fell.

He reached out, tenderly, no longer caring about what he should say, and more about what he meant. “You could- you could just stay with me, tonight. My mom is fine with it, she told you it’s fine whenever. So you don’t have to go home by yourself…” Lance knew he was babbling, but he was afraid that if he stopped talking, he’d have to hear Keith say no. That was the word he feared most of all.

Keith perked back up. “Sure,” He said. “Thanks.”

——

Lance wasn’t sure how they’d ended up like this. He wasn’t even sure what time of night it was. But it was cold, and Keith was warm, and it was late, and there was two of them and only one bed and one blanket. Simple math.

So why not?

——

Keith wasn’t sure how they’d ended up like this.

That was a lie. He’d wanted things to end up like this. He just didn’t expect it to go the way he wanted- things usually didn’t, after all.

But now, here he was, laying with Lance, laying IN A BED with Lance, laying IN LANCE’S BED with Lance. It felt as if he’d been let into some secret, and had burrowed deep into who Lance was, seeing him at his most open. There was always a layer of a person you never understood until all barriers fell.

That did involve Lance’s pillow drool, but it was a give and take. And the benefits far, far outweighed the costs.

Keith snuggled into Lance’s back. “You’re cold,” he muttered. “Come here.”

He held his arms open, and Lance settled between them, sighing at Keith’s heat.

They drifted off like that, secure in each other’s arms.

——

Lance sat in class, fighting the urge to bite down on his pencil. He’d had that habit throughout elementary school. His pencils would be peppered with teeth marks. It ended when a teacher told him, disgusted, that he looked just like a little beaver. 

Everyone laughed at him.

He’d bought mechanical pencils from then on, but that didn’t stop the occasional urge to gnaw a pencil from crossing his mind.

Pencils weren’t the only thing crossing his mind. Lance couldn’t get it out of his mind: he and Keith shared a bed. That fact was earth shattering enough, and when he added on the brief memory of them cuddling, he was mortified.

He woke up at seven. Keith, predictably, was still passed out. If there’s anything that boy loved, it was sleep. He needed it. 

Lance rolled over onto his side and stared at Keith. He wanted to memorize him, exactly the way he was now. Black hair curled onto the pillow behind him. Eyelashes stark against his pale cheeks. A hint of blush on the tip of his nose. Lance wanted to kiss it.

Lance wanted to kiss it.

His eyes traveled lower, stopping at Keith’s lips. They were slightly parted. He was breathing through his mouth, letting out small gasps every once in a while. His lips were deep pink. 

Holy crap. He wanted to kiss Keith.

This didn’t come as a surprise. He’d longed for Keith for a while. The immediacy of the need was what stunned him. He’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Keith.

And he was happy about it. Happy and unhappy, because he could feel the time approaching fast, where he’d tell Keith how he felt and risk the sting of rejection.

Lance was used to rejection. He’d felt it often. It was easy for him to bounce back after experiencing a brief period of dejection. After all, the people he asked out didn’t mean that much to him. What he lost was possibility, an idea that he wanted so, so badly. But it wasn’t real.

This was different. He had something with Keith. Something he didn’t want to lose. They’d come so far since that first summer day, when Lance bounded into the library and was hit with a wall of infatuation. And he was so, so, so happy he had Keith.

Keith, too, was in a much better mood lately. His dark circles were melting away, slowly but surely. He didn’t have many reasons to stay up. Besides talking to Lance, Lance hoped. Lance wasn’t the sole reason for Keith’s change in mood.

Pidge got a call last week. it was brief. A deep male voice informed her that Lotor had been “dealt with appropriately.”

“How?” She asked.

She was met with a dial tone.

Hunk, Keith, and Lance, who all hunched over the phone and listened to every word with anticipation, leapt up and cheered. 

“We’re celebrating the only way we can,” Lance said.

Keith nudged him. “Star Wars?”

“A man who knows me well,” Lance said, nudging him back.

“I’ll get the popcorn!” Pidge said, running to the kitchen, skidding on the slippery floor in her socks and nearly crashing. 

They’d spent the rest of the night reclining on blankets, throwing popcorn at the TV whenever Emperor Palpatine showed up, and screaming when Han and Leia kissed.

The evening was fun, for the most part. There was one thought lurking in the back of Lance’s mind, ominous and unspoken- how was Lotor “dealt” with?

Every time it crossed his mind, he’d flung an arm around Keith and banished the thought with his warmth.

But now Keith wasn’t here, and he was thinking about it again.

A slam echoed through the classroom. Lance looked up, startled.

Lotor loomed before Lance, a scowl on his face and textbooks before him, lopsided from having slammed into the desk.

Lance couldn’t breathe. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re asking ME that question. Good one.”

“Yeah, I am,” said Lance, still puzzled, and seeing some humor in this: Lotor, in his standard expensive suit, standing in the middle of a public school classroom with ratty used textbooks. “Have to say, this school suits you. Get it? Suit?”

Lotor sneered. “I suppose you think this is funny.” It was funny how he managed to try condescension despite being clearly out of his element. The other students whispered to each other, pointing at Lotor, and laughing.

“Hilarious,” Lance said, “but I’m afraid I still don’t know what’s going on.” The teacher walked into the classroom. The rest of the classroom fell silent. Her eyes alighted upon Lotor and narrowed. she began to walk towards Lotor and Lance.

Lance stopped talking, and stared at his paper. He pretended to scrawl a few extra lines on his homework assignment.

“I go here now, you dense shit,” Lotor growled, not noticing the teacher standing directly behind him. He snapped his fingers in Lance’s face. “Are you even listening?”

She reached out and tapped his shoulder, her face drawn tight in annoyance. “Excuse me, Mr. Lotor. I don’t know what rules they taught at private school, but here, WE DO NOT TALK IN CLASS. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lotor, his eyes downturned in humility.

Lance snickered. 

“That goes for you too, Lance. You’ve gone here for long enough to know there are no excuses.”

Lance stopped snickering.

——

Lance leaned over Hunk, impatient. “So, can you fix it?” They were in the garage, hunched over the sad remains of Red. They’d toiled over her for the past hour, but a lot of that was picking out all the shattered parts. Now they were picking through the remnants, trying to determine what was salvageable.

“I tried already.” Hunk groaned and rose to his feet. He crossed the shop, opened a drawer, and produced a single blueprint.

Lance peered over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with it?”

Hunk scanned the blueprint and pointed. “There. There’s a piece missing, dude. I’ll be able to fix everything else with what we have, but without this, the engine would probably overheat.”

Lance’s heart sank. “That’s… not good.”

“Very not good,” Hunk said, itching his neck. “We can order a new one. I just don’t know how long it’ll take to get here.”

“I don’t remember seeing that piece,” Lance said. “You know, when we picked out all the broken shit? Did it evaporate or something?”

“You know metal can’t evaporate, Lance,” Hunk rolled his eyes. “Someone must’ve taken it out.”

“I know who.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Don’t we all.”

“Can’t we make him hand it over?” Pidge called from the office. They startled, unaware that she was listening in on their conversation. “It’s not like he has anything to lose.”

“...maybe.” Lance stared at the wall, at all the motorcycle posters, at the pictures Hunk tacked up, their arsenal of tools. He was sure he was missing something.

“Hunk?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s put in the order for that new part.”

——

Lance sat down at his desk. Lotor turned around, a hunger in his eyes, as if ready to pounce. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at Lance, almost through him.

Lance cleared his throat. “I know you took it,” he said.

Lotor brushed his hair over his shoulder. “I’m sorry? Took what?”

“You know what.”

Lotor tilted his head, smirking.

Lance didn’t want to talk to him any longer than necessary. “Let’s cut to the chase,” he said. “The motorcycle part. It’s not yours. It’s Keith’s. Give it back.”

The smile dropped from Lotor’s face. He dropped the length of hair he had been twirling. “Sorry? Why should I care?”

Lance had always thought there was no one else in the planet who could put on more of a front than him. Lotor was proving him wrong. “Uh… Why else would you take it?”

“Because I can.”

It was hilarious how simply Lotor had just explained himself. “That’s your reason for everything, isn’t it?”

“Suppose so.”

“You don’t care about anything,” Lance said. “You just want to manipulate people.”

“It’s a matter of principle.” Lotor folded his arms. “I’ve given up enough already. Just look at me!” He gestured to himself, then to the students around, who bristled at the insult.

“That’s YOUR fau-“ Lance stopped himself. This is what Lotor wanted. He wanted to worm his way into Lance’s head, make him angry or cry or ruin something else. He wasn’t falling for it. Not again.  
“Actually? I don’t need it. I don’t need you.”

“Sounds a whole lot like someone we know.”

“Yeah?” Lance wasn’t sure where this was going.

“Keith. If you really think HE needs YOU, you must be delusional.”

Ah. So Lotor was continuing with his relentless pursuit of Keith. His insertion of the topic was inelegant and forced, out of the norm for someone usually smooth. He was growing desperate to get to Lance. For someone who claimed to be unbothered, he was pretty bothered, in Lance’s opinion. “That’s a crock of shit.”

“He’s cold,” Lotor said, giving a chilly smile of his own. “That’s why I like him. He isn’t someone you can tame. He’s better off on his own.”

“First of all,” Lance said, not even bothering too directly address Lotor, as he couldn’t stand the sight of him, “Keith isn’t an animal. I don’t need to “tame” him, you fucking psychopath. Second of all, you don’t know the first thing about Keith. He does what he wants, and it just so happens he wants ME.” He stared right into Lotor’s eyes, which were wide open. “You can take that and shove it up your ass.” So much for not getting angry.

Lotor was, blessedly, speechless. Lance hardly spoke up in front of him at all, let alone stood up for himself. His usual techniques weren’t working. He tried to think of a retort.

“Save it,” Lance said, reading Lotor’s mind. “And as for the part? I don’t want anything your slimy fingers touched.”

The teacher walked into the room, and Lance knew he had to cut his rant short. He leaned in close. “Keep it. I insist. Consider it a gift from Keith and I.”

Lotor’s lips twisted in disgust and he turned to face the front. There was a thrill in Lance’s stomach. He felt as if he’d leaped from a ledge and emerged unscathed.

He wondered if that was what it felt like to win.

——

3/15/17  
I had a dream last night. I dreamed that I was back in Texas. I was a kid. I was laying in bed. My mom and dad were sitting in the living room, watching TV. I was hungry, so I yelled at them, asking when dinner was. They didn’t reply. I yelled louder. They still didn’t reply. 

I walked into the living room to see what was going on, and there they were. My mom and dad. 

It’s funny how long I’ve struggled to remember their faces, and my brain throws them out in a dream like it’s nothing. Even now, writing this, I can’t remember anymore. I’m sure they’re beautiful.

So I was with my parents. Except they weren’t my parents, at least the way I knew them. They were stiff, and their faces were blank, and they didn’t respond in the slightest bit to my cries. They didn’t move when I tapped their shoulders. They didn’t react when I stood between them and the TV.

I was standing in front of the TV, screaming and crying, when I got sucked in.

This part of the dream is hazy. I think my mind skipped right over it. Or maybe I forgot. Who knows? I was trapped in that TV box for so long. It felt fuzzy. There was static all around me.

Then, I heard a knock, and Lance looked inside the TV. He didn’t say anything. He held out his hand, and I remember being surprised, because it went right through the screen and into my prison. I  
stared at his hand for a long time. Then, I took it.

Lance pulled me out and I was sitting in my living room, crying. He hugged me for what felt like forever. I felt us growing, taller and taller, until we burst through the roof. Then, I saw the sun, brighter than I ever remembered it being, and it filled my vision with white. And then, the dream was over.

(This is way more than I’ve ever written, and I’m nowhere near done, so I don’t know what’s wrong with me)

I know I’ve been broken. For a long, long time. Maybe I didn’t even realize it. I thought, hell, if I’m top of my class, emancipated, independent, and functioning, then how could anything be wrong with me?

I was wrong. Clearly. I suppose that’s what my brain was trying to tell me.

I feel like a person now. It’s hard to describe how I felt before- I was a shell, a ghost, going through the motions.

Lance was the one who changed everything, when I really think about it. He bounded into that library, with his smile and his laugh and his ocean blue eyes, and he changed my life.

He gave me Pidge and Hunk. He gave me his family. He gave me milkshakes. He gave me laughter. He gave me the feeling that I’m worth something. I’ve gotten things I didn’t know I missed.

I owe him so much.

I don’t know how to describe what I have with him anymore. I need to fix that. It’s time to give us the proper label, if he’s on board.

What I’m trying to say, what I’ve taken a million pages to tell myself, what I’ve taken years to tell myself, and what I told myself in my dream last night, is that I’m ready.  
-Keith.

\----

A hole was burning through Lance’s pocket. He had the piece ready, a tiny bolt with L.M. and K.K. engraved on its side. He was headed to Sonic, where Keith was waiting for him, as faithful as always.

The burning migrated from his pocket to his chest.

It was always like this before major moments in Lance’s life. He’d get heartburn, his mouth would dry up, and he’d feel the familiar, crushing self doubt which sidled in like a cat through a door and took up residence in his head. He got it when Hunk moved houses- and that was just down the block. He got it every year on the first day of school. He got it before the school play. He got it the day he met Keith.

It happened to him more often than he liked to admit, but it wasn’t going to bother him this time.

Lance slipped a hand in his pocket, feeling for the cool steel, sighing in relief when his hands found it. This was his ticket to Keith. 

Lance was a classic romantic, and he couldn’t help but think about how the bolt was shaped like a ring.

Lance stepped inside the Sonic, taking a moment to savor it. The air was cool. Keith, sitting in their usual booth, waved Lance over. A shake sat opposite him.

“Am I interrupting a date?” Lance said jokingly, gesturing to the drink.

“I took the liberty of ordering your Oreo milkshake early. I was hungry.”

“Thanks.” Lance slid into the booth. “What’s yours today?”

“Uh…” Keith squinted at the board, then took a long sip of his shake. He swallowed. “Lollipop lollapalooza.”

“Sounds disgusting.”

“Oh, believe me, it is.” He took another sip.

“I’ve got something for you.”

Keith set his drink down and wiped his mouth, frowning. “Lance, thanks, but I don’t need any presents.”

“It’s not a present, it’s a necessity.” Keith cocked his head, his violet eyes curious. “Promise to take me on Red again,” Lance said, and winked.

“Oh.” Keith was stunned. “It’s not a special occasion, though.”

“I believe,” Lance said, reaching into his pocket and placing the bolt on the table, “the correct phrase is thank you.”

“Thanks but… it’s not even my birthday.”

“People can give presents whenever they want.”

Keith wasn’t convinced. “Since when?”

“Since forever!”

Keith folded his arms. “People only get presents on holidays. Like birthdays or Christmas or-“ He was cutely and infuriatingly stubborn.

“We’ll have to make one,” Lance said. Now was the moment. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Fine,” Keith said. “How about our anniversary?”

“Our…” Lance was breathless. “Our WHAT!?”

“You heard me.” Keith was in disbelief that he’d said what he just said. He had no choice but to double down. He stood up, motioning Lance to come with, and walked out of the Sonic.

Lance followed in a daze, his head feeling disconnected from his body. Keith wouldn’t- it was unlike him to be so- (romantic? Forward?) Lance’s thoughts were one continuous stream of “He likes me? He likes me? He likes me?” It must be some mistake. 

But on the other hand, Lance had felt, deep in his bones, that he wouldn’t be rejected. In reality, this wasn’t much of a surprise. 

Keith stopped before him, ankle deep in grass, and turned around.

“Lance,” Keith said, looking resolutely into his eyes. “Will you go out with me?”

“Keith…” Lance absorbed the moment: Keith’s eyes, his voice, the sun on his back, the grass tickling his legs- and burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny!?” Keith was mortified.

Lance clarified, “No, no, it’s just that I was about to ask YOU out.”

“You…” Keith fumed. Then, his eyes widened. “So, it’s a yes?”

“KEITH, YOU DENSE BRICK!” Lance pulled on his curly hair, eyes rolling. “OF COURSE IT’S A YES!”

“Oh.”

“YOU’RE SURPRISED?”

“Honestly, I expected rejection.”

They both burst into laughter, flopping into the grass.

“So,” Keith said, shifting into a cross legged position, “You want to date me.”

Lance giggled. “Heh. Yeah.”

Keith chuckled and looked at Lance as if he didn’t believe it was real. “Let me reword this. You-“ he pointed at him- “Lance McClain, would like to go out with me, Keith Kogane?”

“Oh my god,” Lance exclaimed, How many times are you going to make me repeat it til you’re happy?”

“A lot,” Keith said, reaching for Lance’s hand. They found each other, and pressed in close. “A lot.”

“Well, I’ll tell you how much I wanna date you any day of the week.”

Keith picked a dandelion and, with a mischievous tilt to his mouth, blew it towards Lance.

“Hey!” Lance sputtered. He retaliated with a handful of grass. It became all out war, with flowers and grass flying about them, until they were tired and covered in green.

Lance picked grass out of Keith’s hair. “Missed a spot, Mullet.”

“So did you,” said Keith, pulling a leaf off the other boy’s ears. Lance leaned into his touch, regretting the absence when it withdrew, all too soon. He replaced it with his own and gazed dreamily at Keith.

“It’s weird,” Lance said. “We haven’t even kissed yet.”

“Is there an order you’re supposed to do things in?” Keith twirled the leaf between his fingers.

“You know! People yell at each other and break up for a week, make up, kiss in the rain, and THEN they start to date.” Lance looked anxious. “Are we doing it wrong?”

“I think you watch too many movies.”

Lance raised an indignant finger. “There is truth in fiction!”

“You’re right,” Keith said. “It’s kinda sucks we haven’t kissed.”

“Pretty messed up.”

“Pretty bad.”

“We could fix that.”

“Do you want to?”

“Keith,” Lance said, brushing Keith’s dark bangs back from his face, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.”

“Then do it,” Keith said, winding his hand into Lance’s hair, smirking at the small gasp Lance made when they touched.

Lance pushed his nose into Keith’s, smiling. “You do it.”

“No, you,” Keith said, bringing their lips within an inch of each other, until their breath was one.

“No, you,” Lance breathed. Their lips met.

It wasn’t entirely clear who began the kiss. They were so close, longing for each other so much, it was as if a magnet pulled them together. Lance cupped Keith’s neck. 

Their kiss tasted like grass and dirt and sweat with the underlying sweetness of a milkshake.

Their lips moved in unison. It was hard to describe the odd duality of the moment, how they were completely isolated from everything, and yet fused with another being- the furthest from being alone that a person could possibly be. Nothing between them, just their bodies flush against each other.

Lance made a guttural noise, deep in his throat, and that’s when Keith pulled away.

“Whoa there, buddy,” Keith said. “I don’t wanna get to third base so soon.”

Lance reddened. “It just came out,” he said.

“So for all your talk about being the irresistible one, you can’t resist anyone else,” Keith teased. With the hand cupping Lance’s neck, he pulled on strands of his hair, watching how it shone reddish brown in the sunlight.

“Shut up, Keith,” Lance leaned his head on Keith’s shoulder. “It’s really nice kissing you,” he said. His voice resonated through Keith’s body. 

Such simple words. “It’s really nice kissing you.” Separately, each word held its own meaning. And yet together they held much more weight than any combination could produce.

“It’s really nice kissing you too,” Keith said.

It was nice to be held, Keith thought. The last time he was this close to anyone, he was hugging his foster mom goodbye. And that in itself was stiff, awkward.

He thought he hated touch. It turns out he didn’t know what it could feel like.

Lance taught him that. How the lightest touch could feel like burning your hand on a candle, how the softest brush could make Keith want to cry, how being close to someone made him want to lie very still, holding the moment to his chest like a child. Lance taught him how to feel wanted.

Keith knew what he wanted. WHO he wanted. And it was nice to feel wanted back.

“Can we stay here like this?” Keith asked.

“Yeah man, doesn’t bother me.”

“Forever?”

Lance exhaled, and his body relaxed. He tightened his grip around Keith. “Let’s.”


	9. you’re my end and my beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The novel ends and the sequel begins.

Lance was waiting at the gates when Keith finished school. “I missed you,” he said, batting his eyelashes.

“You saw me this morning,” Keith pointed out.

“And I missed you all day.” Lance loped towards him, bouncing on the heels of his sneakers, his legs impossibly long. The extra height he had on Keith had to be all leg, Keith thought. He flung a careless arm over Keith’s shoulders and pulled him close.

Public displays of affection were entirely new to him. Keith ducked his head, a flush burning its way across his cheeks. Honestly, Lance was the most disgusting romantic he knew.

Lance noticed Keith’s hesitance and peeked down at him. Recognition alighted in his eyes. A devilish smile formed on his lips. “Are you… blushing?”

“No!” He covered his face with his hands, further unable to bear the sight of Lance’s smile, the golden sun caressing his cheeks, and the breeze playfully ruffling his hair. Lance was made for the summer.

His ears were growing warmer and redder by the second, and there was only so much territory his hands could cover.

“You are!” Lance exclaimed. He pulled on Keith’s hands. Keith fought to keep his face covered. “Let me see!”

“What? NO!”

“Why not?”

“It’s awkward!” Keith circled in an attempt to keep Lance off him. To passerby they must have looked like a dog chasing its tail.

“Please?” Lance whined. “You’re pretty when you blush!”

“I don’t blush!”

“Hardly,” Lance conceded. “And that’s why I wanna see!” 

“You’re weird!”

“C’mon.” Lance tousled his inky hair. He teased, “I can’t be that bad if I made you blush.”

Keith didn’t plan on sitting there and letting Lance get the upper hand. His hands lowered, and Lance cheered. He lunged forward and planted a furious and unexpected kiss on his cheek.

“Wha-“ Lance wheezed, pulling away in shock. He put a hand to his cheek. Much like the rose beds along the sidewalk, his face bloomed a deep red, causing his freckles to vanish.

“That’s what you get.” Keith gently pulled Lance’s hand away from his cheek. Their fingers interlaced. “Your hands are soft,” He blurted out, and immediately felt awkward.

“I… the secret is lotion.”

“Can you guys get a room?” 

Pidge and Hunk were behind the gate, looking impatient.

“Lance,” Hunk said, his voice concerned, sounding a lot like the leader of an intervention, “You said it would only take a minute.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s been seven,” Pidge said, revealing a stopwatch.

His eyes flew to the tiny screen. “Uh, actually six minutes and fifty-five seconds,” he said. “Wait. You guys were TIMING ME?”

“Can you blame us?” She retorted. “You were taking forever. Besides, it’s for a project.”

“WHAT PROJECT!?” Lance gaped.

“A secret one.”

“PIDGE!”

Keith, glad to be away from the commotion, glanced up at Hunk. “How’s it going, Hunk?”

“Could be better.” He gave his signature warm smile in return.

“What about Shay? How’s it going between you two.” Hunk stiffened, unaccustomed to being asked about the topic. A single drop of sweat broke its ties with his forehead and slid down his nose. He rubbed it away, eyes squeezing shut. “Why are you- we weren’t even talking about-“ Keith held his gaze. “-she’s doing great,” He admitted.

“Glad to hear it.” He glanced over at Pidge and Lance, who continued their incessant bickering. It was giving him a headache. “If we leave now, would they notice?”

“No idea,” Hunk said, darting a mischievous sideways glance. “Let’s put it to the test.” They made it a grand total of half a block before Lance noticed.

“Guys? Hey guys? WAIT UP!”

——

They were in Lance’s living room, knee deep in what Lance described as “The Certified Best Movies Ever Marathon.” The ending credits of The Princess Bride scrolled. Keith struggled to keep his eyes open. He had to admit that the only thing making that worth it was Lance’s gooey, lovestruck expression as the TV screen reflected in his eyes.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” He sighed.

“I guess.” Keith had taken to the movie, in an odd sort of way. The way Wesley looked at Buttercup- like there was nothing else in the world- made something stir in his chest. That was how he felt when he looked at Lance.

Vocalizing that was another part of the struggle.

“I guess?” Lance threw a pillow at him. He caught it and dipped his head into it, fighting a yawn and a smirk. “This movie is the pinnacle of romance.”

“Romance is boring, I GUESS. Can we watch Jaws next?”

“If romance is boring,” said Lance, toying with a lock of the other boy’s dark hair, “then why are you dating me?”

“Because…” Keith searched for his words, indigo eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Because you make it not boring,” he concluded.

“Wow. I’m holding this relationship together.”

“I’m trying, you dick.”

“I know you are, I’m just kidding,” Lance said, burrowing his face into Keith’s shirt. He took a deep breath, relishing in Keith’s scent: cologne, wildflowers, and the barest hint of spice. “You can choose the next one,” he said, to placate him.

“Okay,” Keith said. He lifted the remote.

The familiar opening of The Princess Bride played. He jolted. “Keith?”

“I want to watch it again,” Keith said. 

They fell asleep on each other halfway through.

——

When Keith spoke, his house mocked him, echoing his words back with a pathetic, empty tone. The hallways were dark, and he didn’t have the will to get up and turn on the light. He laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling.

The ceiling was a nice place to stare, he decided. Almost, but not quite as nice as the floor. 

All this staring helped protect Keith from the deadline looming over his shoulder: graduation.  
The Garrison’s acceptance cutoff date was next week. He didn’t exactly have many options left. It was looking more and more likely that he’d join their ranks. And it was looking less and less likely that Lance would be there with him.

He looked around his room: bleak, alone, and dark. That was how he’d feel without Lance. He’d rather stand in one of those shadowy corners and crumble to dust than face that reality.

Keith rolled onto his side and hugged his pillow. He grabbed his phone and dialed Lance’s number. As reliable as always, he picked up instantly.

“Keith? What’s up?”

“Can you come over?”

“A booty call?” Lance’s voice danced. “How brazen.”

“Shut up,” Keith said, a smile emerging on his face.

“Well, what’s the matter then?”

“I’m lonely.”

“Keith…” Lance trailed off, taken aback at the bluntness, knowing it meant that Keith was upset.

“Don’t say anything about it, okay?” He hated when people pitied him. Keith pinched the bridge of his nose and ducked his face into his hands. “Just… just come over if you can.”

“I’ll be there,” Lance promised.

He didn’t have to deal with this by himself anymore. Lance reminded him of that, day after day, and he was grateful.

——

It was funny. One of Lance’s favorite parts of dating were the constant surprises. People weren’t ever what he thought they were, and even the little things-their favorite ice cream, the flecks of blue he discovered in their eyes that he never saw before, their different laughs- were a delight to discover. He felt like a miner, striking gold in California. He loved getting to know people. Peeling back all those layers and uncovering every detail he possibly could. Committing it to memory.

The detail Lance had just discovered about Keith? His hands were soft.

They felt to Lance like when you get brand new sheets and they still smell fresh, like they were born in a washing machine, and you stroke your hand along the top, and are overcome with a feeling of softness and safety. You want to fold yourself in those sheets forever.

That’s how he felt about Keith’s hands. And he couldn’t exactly wrap his entire body with them, so he had to settle for hand holding.

Lance reacted to this revelation. “We should go on a date.”

Keith shifted next to him. “Yeah, we should,” He said, letting out a cute, tiny exhale. Lance wanted to bottle it and keep it on a shelf.

“But where?” Lance mused.

“You pick.”

“I can’t decide. You pick.”

“Okay,” Keith said, standing up. “Then I’ll pick.”

“Where are we going?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” He grabbed his jacket.

“You’re chaotic,” Lance scoffed.

“Isn’t that what you love about me?” Keith’s smirk was brazen, unabashed. Lance loved that.

“I’m starting to wonder,” he shrugged.

“Shut up and come with me,” Keith said, extending his hand. Lance took it, and they ran out the door. 

The night air enfolded them, warm and humid. They were both in bare feet, Lance noticed in a rush, and the grass tickled their toes. They ran down the sidewalk without a care in the world.

“Where are we going?” Lance panted.

“The park,” Keith replied, looking back at Lance with a twinkle in his eye, his hair flipping off his neck in a glorious instant to reveal his moon pale skin. All this time dating, and Lances heart still leapt when Keith looked at him. He wondered when the honeymoon phase had an expiration date.

They crossed back onto the grass, and Keith squinted. “Where do you wanna watch the stars?”

“We’re laying on the grass?” Lance whined. “We don’t even have a blanket.”

“Then lay on me.” Keith elbowed Lance, making him stumble.

Lance elbowed him back. “I’d crush you.”

“First of all, you weigh almost nothing, second of all, you had a problem, I had a solution.”

“The ground is fine.”

“Hey,” Keith said, settling down right where they stood. “It is pretty good, actually.”

“Only you would like sitting in the dirt.”

“Come on, sit!”

“If I get a mosquito bite I’m suing,” Lance said. He descended beside Keith. 

They settled, arm against arm, and as they quieted, the sound of nighttime crickets grew stronger. The night sky above them was still. Looking above them, Keith could feel the expanse of the universe around him and Lance as if it were a physical entity.

Lance. Laying beside him quietly, much different from his usual self. Keith loved him like this. He loved Lance the way he was normally, too. He just loved Lance in general. He rolled over and gazed at him. This was much, much better than being alone.

One fear, the sole fear that haunted Keith for the past few months, lingered in the back of his mind. It wasn’t a question of if, but when they’d have to separate, and graduation drew ever closer. 

He responded to this thought by burrowing his face in Lance’s neck.

“What is it?”

“You smell good,” Keith said. “Can I kiss you?”

“You never have to ask.”

And kiss they did.

——

They were sitting on Lance’s couch, an activity that had become more and more common for the two boys. Keith flung an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “What do you want to watch?”

Lance sniffed. “Ugh.”

“Huh?”

“Can’t you smell that?” He smacked his forehead. 

Keith shook his head.

“When we live together, I’m the one in charge of the cleaning.”

“Hey, considering it’s your house that stinks, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Live together? Keith was taken aback. Lance dropped the comment so casually. Of course he wanted to live with Lance. That was an irrefutable fact. It was the immediacy of the claim that stunned Keith.

“I know what that is…” Lance said, adding extra sniffs for good measure. “The PIZZA.”

“Is there a story here I don’t know about?”

“To make a long story short… I was babysitting last week and a pizza may or may not have ended up face down on the couch.”

“An entire pizza.”

“Yeah.”

“Face down on the couch.”

“Yeah.”

“Lance…”

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault!”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

“You’re not my babysitter.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Gross, dude.”

Lance closed his eyes, peaceful, and snuggled into Keith’s side.

The impermanence of the moment struck Keith. One day, he wouldn’t have Lance at his side. And Lance sat there like nothing was wrong. Keith was sure he knew where Keith was going; it was a topic that had come up once or twice and Keith fought it back with feigned ignorance and mumbled answers, feeling too cowardly to outright let Lance down. But he couldn’t keep living this lie. It wasn’t fair to Lance. Keith couldn’t control the words that left his lips. “I’m going to Garrison University,” he blurted.

Lance opened his eyes and sat up. He was bewildered at the abrupt subject change.

“I’m going to Garrison University,” Keith said. “I don’t know. I wanted to tell you that.” He felt hollow.

“Keith, that’s great! I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. I didn’t really earn it, though.”

“Wonder who my roommate is,” Keith yawned and stretched, his shirt lifting up to reveal his stomach.

Lance poked his belly button. “Me, silly.”

“But how-“ The look on Lance’s face was suspicious. “Wait.”

Lance smiled.

“Lance. You didn’t. You told me you didn’t.”

He pulled a letter from his back pocket and presented it to Keith. “I got accepted! I was waiting for the right time to tell you.”

“When did you apply to Garrison University?”

“A few months ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His mouth tilted at the corner. “I knew you’d be nervous,” he admitted. “About me getting in. I didn’t really want the pressure.”

“I’d never pressure you!”

“You know I’d feel it anyways, you know me.”

“I do.”

“It’s dumb and really superstitious, I know,” Lance sighed. “But I felt like if I talked about it… it wouldn’t come true. I actually wished for it over a candle. Ridiculous, right?”

“Very you.”

“I may have wished on a couple stars.”

“Not surprised.”

“Can I hug you?”

“I don’t know,” Keith snarked. “Do you have to ask?”

Lance was upon him, sniffling and caressing his neck and whispering his name. Keith melted too, feeling the weight that had accumulated evaporating from his shoulders.

“So… you’re going to the Garrison,” he said.

“Yep.”

“And I’m going to the Garrison.” They drew apart.

“Yep.”

“We’re going to the same college.” He could hardly believe the words.

“Yeah, pretty cool, right?”

“Lance…” Keith’s bangs fell across his eyes and his ears turned pink. He turned around, attempting to hide the look on his face. Tears fell on his hands.

“Oh, Keith,” Lance said. “Are you crying?”

“Y- yes.”

“Come here again,” Lance said, opening his arms. Keith practically dove in and fought his tears, tiny sniffles escaping the back of his throat. Lance pressed his face to Keith’s, cheek to cheek, and murmured something so quietly that Keith couldn’t hear.

“What?”

It was too early to say “I love you.” Lance knew that. The words had slipped out in a tender moment. He didn’t even know if he meant it. 

“Nothing,” He said. 

Keith didn’t look convinced. He wiped his eyes and frowned.

“Really, nothing.”

He kissed a line across Keith’s face, and soon the tears of happiness-and Lance’s rushed declaration of love-were entirely forgotten.

——

He knocked.

“Keith! Come in, come in,” Lance’s mother said, ushering him into the house and neatly taking the present out of his hands.

The house was bustling with activity. Adults called to each other, some in Spanish, some in English, but no matter which language, it was hard for Keith to understand what they were saying, with all the simultaneous voices shouting, and the crackle of food on the stove. Children were weaving in and out of the already chaotic room, waving their dinosaurs and spaceships at each other and creating a cacophony of explosion sound effects.

Sofia was sitting on the couch. “Hey, Keith.”

“Hey,” he replied distractedly, scanning the room. “Where’s-”

“If you’re looking for your boyfriend,” she said, rolling her eyes, “You’ll find him in his room.”

“I wasn’t-”

“You don’t need to pretend around me,” She sighed. She picked up a book from the coffee table and thumbed through the pages. Her hair fell across her face, a curtain effectively silencing Keith. He took that as a sign to leave.

As he approached the stairs, Rosa stopped him. “Could we talk for a minute?” She asked.

Normally, being asked to “talk” by a boyfriend’s mother would have struck fear into Keith’s heart, but one look into her warm, crinkled eyes, and he felt safe.

“Sure, about what?” He hoped it wasn’t about protection.

“Lance- he’s very happy with you.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“And so are we.”

Keith’s chest stirred, in some familar yet unrecognizable way. He hadn’t felt like this in a long, long time. The emotion was almost alien. Pretending he didn’t need motherly affection was kind of his forte. A surge swept through his body. He felt hot.

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking at the floor.

She tilted his chin up and gazed into his eyes, looking fiercely protective, like some lioness. “No need to thank me,” She said. “We’re family now.”

How does someone reply to a thing like that? Keith wondered. He didn’t have a chance to even open his mouth.

“That reminds me,” She continued, moving right along, as if she hadn’t just left Keith speechless, “Lance wanted it to be a surprise, but… I don’t know if you like surprises.”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What the surprise is.”

She laughed. “Well,” She said. “This isn’t only Lance’s grad party. See, he told me you don’t have parents at home, so I knew you probably wouldn’t be having one, and Lance thought it was a good idea-”

“He did?”

“He did. He likes you a lot, you lucky boy. My son is a very caring person. Even if you didn’t care about grad parties that much, he wanted you to have one.”

“And so did you.”

“Yes.”

“Why? I don’t need it.”

“Because you deserve it.”

He was silent.

“Keith?”

He moved over to her, and she put her arms around him. His head dropped onto her shoulder. Tremors shook his body.

“Oh,” she breathed, and lightly stroked his hair. “You’re such a good kid, Keith.”

“Thank you,” he said, searching for the words that could fully convey the magnitude of emotions welling up inside him. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” she laughed softly. “Just take care of my son.”

“I will,” he said, choking on the words.

She drew back. “I have to go finish making dinner. You can run on up to Lance now, I won’t bother you with this mom stuff anymore.”

“You never do,” Said Keith, heading up the stairs.

He collapsed onto Lance’s bed.

“Not so much as a hello,” Lance griped. He leaned down and kissed him.

Keith looked up at him. “Hello.”  
He giggled. “Hello.”

His face was too irresistible when he laughed. Keith kissed him again, but Lance’s laughs made it difficult. His face kept moving, breaking away. They pulled apart.

“So,” Lance said. “What were you and my mom talking about?”

“Nosy.”

“It’s my mom! I have a right to know!” Horror pooled in Lance’s eyes. “She didn’t give you the… you know… protection talk, did she?”

“No! God!” Keith playfully shoved him. He fell off the bed with a gasp, all bony elbows and open mouth. Keith couldn’t help but laugh.

He swung back onto the bed. “Hey, you never know with her. Jerk.”

“I was scared she would too,” Keith confessed.

Lance shifted, making the bed creak. “Then what did she ask about?”

“Well…” The moment had been so private, even for Lance. He didn’t know how to talk about affection. He didn’t know a thing. 

And Lance would be a little upset considering his surprise was ruined.

“Keith…” Lance pleaded.

“She told me about the party.”

Lance howled, “NO!”

“I know, I know.” He pet his shoulder.

“Man. I wanted to surprise you.”

“I know. But I feel a little better knowing about it.” Keith hadn’t given much thought to his hatred of parties, and fear crept into his stomach. He fought it down. This wasn’t just anyone. It was Lance’s family, Lance’s party. “Lance, that was so nice of you- and your mom-”

“She likes you more than she likes me,” Lance pouted, petulant.

Keith snorted and tossed back his hair. “I doubt that. She loves all of us equally.”

“Did she- she called you family?”

Keith took his hand. “Yes,” he said, voice low in a poor attempt at disguising the emotion laid bare.

Lance pulled him into an embrace. His breath whistled on his ear, making him shiver. “Good luck getting out now, Keith. Once you’re family, you’re family forever.”

“Ominous,” Keith said, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Did someone replace normal Keith?”

“It’s called happiness, you idiot.”

“I’m happy you’re happy.” Their eyes met, violet and blue, and they dipped forward into each other, with chapped lips, eyes fluttering shut, light caresses.

“Hey dorks! Quit making out up there!” They broke apart, flustered. “We’re ready for you to come down now!”

“You wanna go?”

“I guess we have to.”

They reluctantly peeled off the bed.

“You do realize my relatives are gonna give you the tenth degree? Prepare for your privacy to be invaded in every dimension imaginable.”

“I’m ready.” He squeezed Lance’s hand. They headed downstairs.

\----

“For the last time,” Pidge said, slapping her palm on the table, “Mothman is not real!”

“What are you talking about?” Keith retorted. “There’s enough evidence to prove the existence of two mothmen!”

“Did you just pluralize mothman?”

“Next thing you’ll be saying Bigfoot isn’t real!”

“He isn’t!”

“You take that back!”

“Do you guys really want to spend our last dinner together arguing about monsters?” Lance asked.

They rounded on him, expressions eerily similar. “They’re not monsters, they’re cryptids!”

“Sorry, sorry!” He raised his palms in supplication. 

“I know a guy who’s doing his major on cryptids,” said Hunk. He took a thoughtful bite of his burger and swallowed. “I can give you guys his email if you want.”

“Please do! I need to prove this idiot wrong.”

“You’ll see just how wrong YOU are, shorty.”

“SHORTY!?”

“You guys! He hasn’t even started the major yet!” But Hunk was too late. His attempt at ending the conversation had only spurred more debate (and debate was a generous way to put it).

“You tried.” Lance pet his shoulder. “You tried. Just eat your burger.”

“I’ve always wondered,” said Hunk, picking up a fry and studying it as he spoke, “Does he do this when it’s just you two?”

“No. I mean, he talks about cryptids. I just don’t argue with him about it.”

“You totally enable him!” Hunk clapped his hand, fry and all, to his forehead. “If it weren’t for you he’d be half as bad.”

“I do not enable him!”

Hunk set down his fry and gave Lance a hard stare.

“Okay, okay, maybe a little,” Lance lamented, “But can you blame me? He’s so cute when he talks about them.”

“And now? He’s acting like them.”

The other side of the table, Hunk and Lance noticed, was silent. Keith and Pidge were on their phones, scrolling furiously. 

“Oh no, no, no,” Hunk said, plucking the phones from their hands. “No googling!”

“But Hunk-“

“My no is final.” He placed their phones in the center of the table. “Eat.”

“Fine,” they grumbled, diving into their untouched plates.

Lance stared at Hunk as if he were looking into the sun. “You’re a miracle worker.”

“I try.”

“You should work with kids.”

“Screw that! I already have them to deal with.”

“What was I thinking? Mechanics are way better, I agree.”

“Cars don’t talk back.”

Lance snorted. Keith glared at him.

“Okay,” Pidge said, “Mothman aside-“

“Don’t speak his name, nonbeliever.”

“MOTHMAN ASIDE,” she continued, “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“Aw, Pidge,” Lance said, reaching a hand across the table.

Keith blinked in confusion, staring at each of their teary faces. “We’re all going to the same school.”

“Yeah but-“

“And you’re working at the car shop still.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same!” Lance cried.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not upset!” Said Hunk, blowing his nose.

“Sorry,” He said, “I just wanted to comfort you guys.”

“I know this, and I love you,” said Pidge.

“Y’all…” Hunk said, extricating himself from the booth and holding out his arms, “This calls for a group hug.”

They all gratefully folded into his large embrace.

Pidge spoke. “Hunk?” 

“Yeah?” He sniffled.

“Is it okay if I grab my phone?” She pleaded.

He tensed.

“Just to take a selfie,” she reassured him.

“I’ll allow it.”

And that’s how their final day together as high schoolers came to pass: with smiles, selfies, and and the begin of an unending debate on mothman (but even that wouldn’t last as long as their friendship).

——

“I can’t believe we’ll be at the same school,” said Keith, studying Shiro as the older man stacked books onto a shelf.

“I can’t believe you’re sitting here and not doing any work.”

“Shiro!”

“I’m just kidding,” Shiro chuckled. He took hold of the empty cart and wheeled it down the aisle.

“Are you going to miss this place?” Keith asked. “When you graduate?”

“Who says I’m leaving?”

“I doubt you’ll work here.”

“I will miss it,” he sighed. “There’s a lot of things I’ll remember about this place. It’s like a gateway, isn’t it? Sort of like the train station from Harry Potter? We’re just passing through.”

“Sort of. I sure hope this isn’t a gateway to death, though.” Keith stroked the spine of a book. Hemingway. It was smooth.

“You know, Keith,” Shiro said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I always thought the library meant more to you than it did to me.”

Keith turned. “You love this library.”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “But I’m still the same man I was when I started working here. I’ve watched you change, and it’s thanks to this place.”

“Lance and I,” Keith whispered. “All because of here.”

“Sometimes fate is like that, huh?” Shiro shook his head and resumed pushing his cart. “Weird.”

Keith was left, speechless, completely struck by this revelation. He went outside to call Lance.

\----

“You got everything?” Lance asked, bouncing up and down on his heels at Keith’s door.

“Yeah, just let me turn the lights off,” Keith said. He picked up his last box and circled from his bedroom, to the living room, to the kitchen, a trip that was quicker than it always felt when he was alone. He flicked off the lights, leaving darkness in his wake. 

He paused, studying his former home for one final time. That was where he held back tears, where he wondered about his parents, where he came home exhausted from his shifts. But it was also where he lived when he met Lance, when he came home dizzy from the emotions awakening in his chest, when his stomach was full of shakes and laughter and thoughts of Hunk and Pidge and the jokes that they’d shared. It was everything he’d lived combined, and it was a weight he had to release to make way for new.

“Keith!”

“I’m coming, Lance!”

Keith closed the door on the darkness with a final slam, and walked out to meet Lance, squinting and shielding his eyes from the sunlight. 

\----

Knock. “Keith.” 

Keith opened his eyes, groggy.

Knock knock. “Are you in there?” 

He looked at the clock. Six o’ clock. His first class was at four.

Knock knock knock. “Keith.”

He groaned. “I’m coming, Jesus.” Keith reluctantly peeled himself out of bed and went to get the door.

Lance was behind it, beaming brightly, and looking very pleased with himself, as if he hadn’t just woken Keith up at six in the morning, and as if the aforementioned boy wasn’t standing in front of him, all dark circles, mussy hair, and frowns. 

“You have ten seconds to explain why you’re here,” He said flatly.

Lance rushed forwards and enfolded Keith in his arms. “I missed you,” he said, landing a series of kisses on his forehead. Keith squirmed in his grip, attempting to dodge his lips.

“You couldn’t wait a couple hours?”

“If I left you on your own you’d sleep all day.”

“Nine o’ clock hardly constitutes a day,” He muttered. Turning his back on Lance and his radiant aura and his kisses, he shuffled back into the room and collapsed face down in his bed. Morning Lance was a Night Keith problem.

He was happy to see Lance, as he always was. But seeing anyone before nine, let along someone as energetic as his beautiful boyfriend? That was bound to irritate him. It was also irritating how Lance could just spring out of bed and be entirely ready for a day, whereas Keith had to simmer in the sunlight and charge for a good three hours before he looked remotely decent. It wasn’t fair.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” Lance sat beside Keith and pat his head, working his fingers through the tangles. Keith sighed a bit at that, relishing in the feeling, but collected himself enough to scowl into his pillows. “I wanna go on an adventure.”

One bleary eye opened. “Where?”

“Hey,” Lance said, settling into the bed and throwing a bony arm over him, “I can be surprising, just like you.”

Keith paused. He liked the sound of that.

“We go at nine.”

“C’mon-”

Keith could compromise, but not that much. “We. Go. At. Nine.” His eyes closed.

“Okay,” Lance acquiesced. He flopped over Keith’s back, and they lay like that for awhile. Their breaths grew more and more even, and became synced. It was comforting, the joined rise and fall between them. It was like kissing.

And how was Keith supposed to concentrate on sleep when Lance was right there? His scent, his face, the pressure of his body on Keith’s back- Keith wanted to lay a path of kisses across his exposed neck, trailing up to his face, which was currently staring up at the ceiling with an unfairly cute, content expression. 

He couldn’t take it. Keith groaned. “Can’t go back to sleep.”

“Because of my beguiling presence?”

“Because you woke me up, asshole.”

“Okay.” Lance flipped up onto his elbows and stared at him. “Let’s just talk then.”

“About what?”

“Like… how are your classes?”

“Okay.”

“You sound like pre-dating Keith.”

“I sound like six in the morning Keith.”

“That’s fair, that’s fair.”

“How are your classes?”

“Oh my god, Keith I thought you’d never ask. I am living the dream, my man.”

“I’m glad.” Keith smiled, and it was far more genuine than he imagined he could elicit at such unholy hours in the morning. His eyes were still shut. All he had was Lance’s voice.

“You’re perking up.”

“Yeah, yeah, just keep talking.”

Keith listened as Lance rattled a blow-by-blow play of his day, oohing and aahing right where he was supposed to; gasping when Lance gave his cue. Though he didn’t want to admit it to Lance (because that would cause a never ending avalanche of stories), he loved his stories. And he was definitely, definitely, not getting another second of sleep. 

As Lance wound down his fourth story, laughing, and opened his mouth to begin another, a pillow met him in the face.

Keith cackled. “I think I’m up now.”

“You jerk!” Lance grabbed for another pillow and retaliated, nearly knocking Keith off the bed. “Take that, you scoundrel!”

Then, it was all out war.

It was appearing to wind down; they sprawled out on the floor, stray feathers in their hair and grins on their faces.

Then, Lance looked over at Keith, and his expression was abruptly serious, like a storm cloud crossing the sun. He picked himself up and loomed over Keith. There was a glint of mischief peeking out of his eyes.

“Lance, don’t-” Lance lunged. Keith howled. They began to wrestle. There was no bite in it. Every move they made was soft, as much as wrestling could be. A flurry of limbs- Lance’s leg waving wildly, Keith grasping for something to hold onto- and before he knew it, he was pinned.

“How’d you get so strong?” Keith gasped. A look of wonder emerged in his eyes. He knew Lance ate up any attention he gave him, and he loved to play it up when he could, because he loved when Lance would preen and puff his chest out slightly, bragging that his boyfriend loved him the most. However, this time around, there was more honesty in his wonder than he’d imagined there would be. He was impressed. It looked like Lance had finally taken his advice and started working out.

“Natural talent,” said Lance. His grip on Keith weakened. “I could beat you whenever I wanted.”

Keith poised at the weak spot, ready to move. “I don’t know about that,” He said. And then, in a rapid sequence of movements, Lance was pinned. He had a leg holding down either armpit. He struggled, arms scrabbling, and legs ineffectually kicking, before giving up.

He got off Lance, and offered a hand to help him stand. 

“Don’t spend so much time gloating, and maybe you’ll win next time.”

Lance, eyes wide, blurted out, “Keith, I love you.” His mind raced. What was it with him and blurting out rushed declarations of love in the worst moments?

Keith froze.

“Wait, that’s a lot,” Lance stuttered, backtracking. “I meant- I like you a lot. Boyfriend.”

“I like you a lot too,” Keith grinned, and kissed him.

When they broke apart, Lance’s eyes were screwed shut, and he was flushed tomato red. “This isn’t fair.”

“Am I a bad kisser?”

“No! Just stop…” Lance covered his face. “I’m supposed to be the smooth one!”

“Oh, so I’M the one who’s irresistible.”

“Stop!” Lance was never cuter than he was right now, when all the little barriers he put up fell away.

“Maybe I am a morning person,” Keith said, and kissed him again, but softer this time.

The adventure could wait. Lance was all the adventure Keith needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! It’s over. 
> 
> I’m sure, in time, I’ll look back at this series, my first series, and see everything I’d want to change and all I’ve matured past. Hey, I even feel like that seeing my first chapter. Right now, though, I want to focus on being proud of what I’ve created. 
> 
> This chapter really struck home with me as a senior graduating from high school, and I’m sure that’s why I wrote them all as going to the same university (as a sort of wish fulfillment) but I sure hope you guys see it as consistent in this universe as well.
> 
> It’s been a fun ride! Thanks so much to those of you who stuck with me!


End file.
